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Milk For Gall
by Woroni
Raise his basket from the floor And smell the paint that brands his door. Hear him make his mountain meeting See him sit each night to eat.
He eats– and once he’s finished eating–Sucks the bones of all their meat and Gurgles, and – as if to dare you –Leaves them bare for you to bury.
His repeated feeding doesn’t Seem to heed or be in need of Anything within your power–Other than a passing hour,
Or a passing train, you passing By a stranger without glancing Back at him (as he does you) In fear that he will eat you too.
Come here you spirits who tend on the mortal, Tree-tap my larynx and sip from my gullet And, in exchange for your bodily drinking: Grant me the milk for the gall you so covet.
