by pulling it apart 

at the jaw, tossing the bottom 

to her spouse, a saucy bride 

already unfaithful with the bridesmaid

who at her side lingers

upon the bride major’s strength

as she pulls the wolf’s skull open

where the brains peer out like a greasy walnut. 

Every guest is cheering on appetite, appetite, appetite.

The bride major holds the wolf’s head 

in her left hand. The party shouts, yes, yes.

The bridesmaid could have the wives both, wishes it so

as the bride major eats first

the brains, holding the hand of her wife

as she begins on the tongue 

and mouth. When they exchange sweetmeats

they kiss and hold each other’s face

above the dish. The band has not stopped 

playing, singing love in Gaelic, singing stay

off my land, it is for my love, my love

only, singing again,

again, mirth flowing 

with feast, ale sailing into mouths

of guests already leeway with the storm 

laughing and good nature’s bring, between dances,

claps, kisses that don’t ask

whether care has found you, there is a new name

to be carved on the table, a new singing 

syllable to own and be shaped by

and bring out every time someone puts out a hand,

asking, what’s your name?