A Small Request
A SMALL REQUEST
She won’t go into the woods alone
afraid of the trees and what they might say;
the telltale trunk cannot be trusted
to keep the secret of her lover,
how she cut him open then stealthily walked away.
Those were long days, impossible lives,
truth is the sunrise, not to be denied.
Between starlight and the moon
no pleasure withheld; victims of fate,
the tragedy of circumstances.
The white pines howl and the birches bark
madly but never a word was spoken.
Everybody has a bone to pick, my friend,
we’re all just big ole dogs in the end.
Lycanthropes to the full moon.
The day bludgeons night bruising the sky
but his heart is left with the black eye
and by his I mean mine and now that it’s out
silence is filled with unspeakable sound.
Thunder is memory in a distant song.
She loved the woods like another child,
The ground so moist and the air so wild.
On the rocks is where she came alive,
Grass on her knees, smoke in her eyes.
Reborn as the sunrise.
Back to the trees and the secrets held
And the purpose of this pitiful discourse,
I’ve come to my one small request;
not the Master of your heart, at least,
let me be an occasional guest.
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