He watched with a raptor’s
perverse ease.
Confident in the quiet.
Fueled by extravagant loneliness,
a trance-like intuition
graced his movement.
Lost in the midnight of loving
that grew like a thorn bush.
A prickly bower over the undefended grace
of frail and brittle emotion.
In the throbbing dusk,
the hunters’ time,
layers of dark curiosity.
tenderness and mercy held hands
like mourners, alert and dismally lost.