Oh

i will craft you,
and mold you
and shape you as mud
that, fickle and flowing
and dark to the touch
will cover my fingers,
from knuckle to tip,
as i lift your new form:
let you drip to my lips.

i will own you,
and keep you
and discard your box
that, shallow and hallowed,
and chained tightly shut
will shadow your meaning,
from nostril to knee
as you tremble and stand
and fall into me.