Do you hunt? The Duchess asked? I am at a loss. I have hunted for small and tender things. I have hunted for birds, and fishes, and easter eggs, and my wallet. Henry says, He doesn’t hunt anymore – it’s boring after hunting people. I smile, not saying, I hunt people, I fish people. I am bait and net. I am sharp pointed thing and blunt object. I hunt and I love my hunt. I hunt people and I catch them. I don’t keep the trophies and I don’t do catch and release. I am a beagle and I am a raptor. I hunt. I am not the Hunter. I don’t say, but I hunted an elephant one day and felt his shit and smelt his rubbings on the tree, fear filled with the idea of what ho? When I find him, what ho? I hunted people. When I found them I shot them and I ruined the meat of them in the shooting. I went through their pockets and learned of their families and of their girl, dark eyed, black of hair… And they hunted me and shot my friends and my children. I don’t say that. They hunted me in Sydney, too, with a pack of cards, and a pea and three cups. They hunted me in the Sukh with silver plated copper. That is why I hunt them. Because they hunt me and my friends and my children. I don’t say, The hare doesn’t hunt back. The deer doesn’t hunt back and we kill so many of them we can’t eat them all and they rot. So I don’t kill another. I hunt people and when the Hunter takes them, they don’t hunt me anymore, they don’t hunt my children.
I want to stretch my spirit and make it young and strong and bleach the liver spots off of it. I want to trot it out without a limp. I want to bind up the ends of my spirit and make it young and vital. I desire to bind up the mitochondria of my meat. You won’t do it. You are going to let the meat fall apart with me in it. You say, less the corn die… God! Dammit!!! I am this meat!!!! You say Man doesn’t live by meat alone but by Word. My spirit is wanting to be stretched, trimmed, softened, oiled, smoothed, blood filled, warmed, tucked, and all bound up on the ends. I desire something else. I want You and I desire other things. I understand her so well, with her hidden wrinkles and not so hidden skin. So hard to hide the hands. I understand her so well and I recoil at me and my cottage cheese. I am fearfully and wonderfully made. What is man that you should youthanize his spirit, rkh hqdsh?