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.