There is a girl inside. 
She is randy as a wolf. 
She will not walk away 
and leave these bones
to an old woman.

She is a green tree 
in a forest of kindling. 
She is a green girl 
in a used poet.

She has waited 
patient as a nun 
for the second coming, 
when she can break through gray hairs 
into blossom

and her lovers will harvest 
honey and thyme 
and the woods will be wild 
with the damn wonder of it.