Thursday, August 2, 2012


Out Of The Woods

You managed to slip out the back while I
watched the front; sash eased, first one leg then the
other, a short drop, you lit out for the
territories leaving me rooted in

terror, fed by this rich black biding loam,
my canopy a prison.  Once, I bore
you close in my branches, high above my
looming shadow, these last few falling leaves.

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