Do / Do Not

I sniff the blooming tiger lily, 
two tongues sprung open
 from one mouth.

I poison the river unintentionally.
 I walk on the designated paths.

I splice the mountain, its body and mouth gaping. 
I collect rainwater in a wheelbarrow.

I line the whale’s belly with gifts until
 they rupture its stomach. 
I water the strawberries.

Again I fill my gas tank with dead things, 
generations spun together until shiny.
 I feed the ducks fresh lettuce.

I manoeuvre the dead squirrel 
on the road, mark the moment 
when creature becomes meat.

I accept that my love is a
 poisonous flower, routinely fatal.

I calculate the force of
 loving in each glittering death.

All day on this land, in the
 deep forest, the electric greens and 
still-wet mud writhe with life.

The pond gurgles and whispers. 
Everyone here knows to shudder 
when they see me coming.

The mangos arrive unbruised
 at the grocery store. 
The wolves should start running.

Continue thinking along these lines ...