I fell away toward death
for lack of company and goods: 
no business but to flinch.
A woman caught me with the hook
her smile wore at its edge
and wound me up with a winch.
Love’s bucket, I was refilled!
So I came back and kissed
and cursed her. She fixed lunch.
She gave me solid grounds,
the company of laughter,
and the water works. So I
recant? I should invest
in fly-by-night concerns
while I have flesh to risk
and currency to burn,
so I will hang around
her wellhead and decant 
death’s water to my drawer.