I have no desire to be wild, but if I must--

[Pyxx]

"I can feel you here,"
he crept into the dead drum of
my ear, and I crushed my fingers into
the left of his ribs and sought for anything
from that hound: no blood spoor
to glut the appetite.

Two more beers, child, and you'll be
flowers
bleeding the pollen of a harlot
and he'll be the
bees.

(in hindsight)
Mother warned me about this.

I enjoyed reading this poem, I felt it had a natural flow to it. To me this poem is about death. I thought that this work uses nature to imply decay. 

Two more beers, child, and you'll be

flowers


"I can feel you here,"

he crept into the dead drum of

my ear, and I crushed my fingers into

the left of his ribs and sought for anything

from that hound: no blood spoor

to glut the appetite.

It reads more like a short story than a poem, I'm not sure if this is your intention, I found the repetitive use of the word 'and' distracting.

Two more beers, child, and you'll be

flowers

bleeding the pollen of a harlot

and he'll be the

bees.

The final phrase is beautiful, if a little unexpected. I was not sure who the author is referring to when he is mentioned...I really like this work, though.