Barb and Sap

To claim: of yours, of mine, the same To grasp. To drink from life's boiling spring Thistled fingers warm and bend Calling your children home hungry Baited aurum and cocked lilly eyed lust Perched like a jaundiced vulture, wings spread in vain For anything to clutch. Bones of contention To drink, with blistered lips To grasp, in hands of barb and sap Your greed, it sticks to your bones It sinks to your marrow and calls you home