My hands formed a net
They captured her breast
Like a fowler
by submitting formally
to all desires
you will fail
divorce is an expense
you can not recover
a Winchester a Colt a derringer
a gallows for the evil
a glare for the transgressive
a hug for the child of love
there was the moon so large and low on the horizon
swinging down to eye level through the trees
there was a huddle of men
and a lovely thriving coyote in the gully
hiding from me behind the sparse brush
I illuminated them all as I passed by
I paused momentarily for each in turn
there was a family
holding each other joyous
at the notion of hope
there was a shadow that passed
and may not return
the threat now dormant
or extinct
No comments:
Post a Comment