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.


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