Introduce me first as a victory

of grain measurement. ‘Here is a man made

well, wheat flour packed without overflow.’

Introduce me next as a miracle.

‘At a dry desert wedding short of wine

this man here is like a large stone jar filled

to its stable brim with pure water turned

to wine.’ Please introduce me thus, then turn

and run, for like a young boxer fucking

the judge before the big fight, like the judge

with a gun but no pants, like a trespass

or a good vigilante, I let law

spill. Yes, I am force and in full force, both

the fullness and the panic of measure.