Paw prints of a leopard
Squelched thick on her tongue,
and her lungs are smoky peaks,
liver an old bear grown silver--
From her hand she spills
The spirit-sea wild past her teeth
wherein cliff stones catch
shore's fist upon their face
(but don't spit) and down
the potion tumbles to her core,
forest fed on the bottle's milk she rains--
and as the tavern's shouts eclipse her ears,
she's earned her nature's praise.