Thursday, February 2, 2012


Schlepping down uneven cement, this woman wants to believer
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.

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