Look at me. I am happy as a farmhouse. An- imals will take their pick of me and I will be grateful. Clouds in the face of my river. Corn in my sky. I am sun bursting honey. I am bulging with glee. Won’t you tender- take me cross the green and show me where the ivy meets the rocky lane. Anything to see my sprawl. Speak to me in wriggling tones to tenderize the meat. Look please|d| before cloudcover has its way. All 4 limbs and head a star I g|r|aze at closed-mouth hugs above. I hum the things that live out-side. Hum the things I’ll be inside. Lining all my under-ribs. All this I am: a space to keep spare animals fed. A weight acknowl-edged in its pouring-out. Joy to be the thing lacks a clear-cut belly; a thing without a door that wholly shuts.