Of marrow, that moist covenant, the leech
Will not leave 'til constituents are dried
To scatter on the Breath of Earth.  Oh,
Were that my Breath, to span the eons
And ages, suspending flock above the abyss.
Alas, mine are finite and measured
By the leech that suckles and consumes
What was mine.  The rhythm and cadence
Mark and measure my absurd effort
To rail against the flow, the preordained conclusion
Of me into the leech.

Aaron Baird