A drop of sweat, a trail of spit
In candle’s light caress: that corporeal mess
Amidst bandages, neatly folded and
Lovingly perfumed and anointed.
In fresh turned earth the bed is made
And, once laid, the sweetest scent
(like dead daisies) issues forth
From that rocky soil, enticing
The beasts of the earth to come,
To feast.