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