An elephant moth, devoted to eating, 
a tender of meat, a compulsive, a meek, 
something that should have been smaller.  
Did I do that, or did my body? 

I was an Omitted Child.  I love the law, 
my box, knowing what I should do.
I cannot touch, or swear, or forget my food.
If my mouth opens, something has gone wrong.  
Something has gone very wrong. 

This will all make sense to you.
I was only an Issue, anything more or less 
would have meant love.  My own will, 
for instance, is blank.  Given nothing, 
I am only the thing in the woods searching 
for an adoption, a different statute, or a good kill.