Here's another poem from my chapbook "Ringing" (on-line here):
Like ships leaning together licking each other’s shoulders, we fall down and dig at the earth. Fervently. Like jackals. Fire’s leaping from hill to hill, and my nerves are swaying like seaweed. I have learned to die. And not to. My veins are filled with milk.
(note: this poem originally appeared in the on-line journal Eleven Eleven)