How much want is enough?

I ramble,
             untouched by day and undressed by night.

Between this and that someone’s ankle
            
             waltzes as an ode,
                                      then someone’s throat is slit.

I look through the window—

Picked by the wolves, my childhood
                                               still wanders the street.

In my most vulnerable moment,
                                            a lonely crow of ambition
sitting atop a storm-ravaged fence
                                            cocks its head and watches

my body turning to ash, tender and longing.