nothing is following her rickety shadow. Snot tendrils
travel south over the ridge of her rouged upper-lip,
chillingly seeping into this woman's mouth—
she trips.
I do not move the maple branch strewn across the way or call
this woman's name. I merely watch as the stranger lolls
over, eroding appendages clenching for something.
Expansive jaws agape, this woman is quiet—
he feasts.
