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A woman rolls over to face the wall
the man she is with throws his arm around her
their bodies intertwine like thorn bushes growing wild
in an overgrown forest of dead roots
running rampant along the dark cold soil
where tall overbearing shadows block all sunlight.
The woman mumbles in her sleep,
man listens intently;to the secrets that she keeps.
His ears strong like the crow that senses death
sloping downward from the sky after his prey as she wept.
He picks away until his hunger is satisfied
The woman falls into silent sleep.
She is gone in the morning and the man awakes
to find a letter in her place:
"Can I speak to you of flesh and bone that sews my soul together?Must I speak
to you in cautious tones to tell you of the weather?,In teeming rains or
swealtering heat."
The man he does not comprehend
the womans passsionate plea...
He spies his dog at the end of his bed,
slobberring and chewing at a piece of the womans sweater...he follows the dog
into the hallway
following a trail in bits and pieces
of the scent she had worn.
To go back to the main page Here Tinkerbell March 1994