Game
She chases me, she
sends me
shiny tiles and
deep water, green
birds are perkily
after my liver.
I hide in glowing
meadows, I conceal
myself at the
mountain rim. Her underground
whistling is
almost audible, yes,
she chases me. If
there’s a hunter
he’s wearing my
coat. I catch her
scent in which I
would choke. As long
as in the hunt’s
masque I continue to have faith
she will exist.
When the curtain falls
I look a fool
there with arrow and bow.
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