To A Girl In March Wind With Pure Wonderment Of Thigh And Knee

the devil has often been here
over the top of my wine bottle
grinning at me;
surely I am senseless to judge
anything that's near?
you've no doubt got a voice like a
pelican      a thrust and shove of
subway stigmata?

come, I'll tear up all my poems
for just a little piece
of you.