We stroll into the brambles
with a predatory calm.
Those days seem awkward
when we think about them now.
…
All that keeps the dark back
is the flowing of the words.
…
At the moment of the taking
our excitement is the same.
We are the standard danger
of the fanning of the flames.
…
Stand elated at the burning.
All our murders look the same.
We are the thought and the display
the explanation and the side effect.