A shortcut to undo; and so the hateful words we say,

hateful because we have not loved someone

so much before – can be reversed, undone, erased.

A dream come true: No evidence. No blowgun

residue. No shadowy pin-print in the chest, where

the pointed tip pierced through. No plaintive call

to cauterize the wound. No sky gods cheering

for a second act. Nature reversed: No crawling

back, no silken trail, no bouquets of fattened leaves

in new host trees with larval tents; branches where we will

leave our scent and later, feed. Limbs in silk sleeves

like spring in a dying season, as if to ornament the kill.

As if, behind the screen, like lotuses, merciless words

did not fix their roots in swampy waters, undisturbed.