FULL MOON ON TOP OF A CHAMPAGNE PALM'S TIP

i'd rather be the river
than a driftwood,
you once said that,

in life however, without
the rivers
intermittent as waters
have become
on glass
fragile containers,

most of us have become
perhaps without our knowing
(who wants to admit
that our skins are rough
our manners berserk?)

the amphibious crocodiles,
ambidextrous hands,
where the left and the right
no longer matter

and most often we come
home bringing
the whole deer with
blood still on our sharp
teeth dripping.