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.
Post a Comment