Bitten

The musty and primeval spoor
that comes from deepest growth
inveigles me to linger like the moss
but I have made a binding oath
and will tarry here no more
for someone may be saddened by the loss—

forsaking Eden’s lush embrace
to don eternal gold
I hear the roaming creatures smugly jeer,
though later when the night is cold
I’ll revel in the grace
of sweeter flesh than any sacred sphere.