from, Haunted Forest

IV. A Wild Sweet Rippling

A cautionary miss, cautionary
tale, all dressed up &
smelling of strangers, in the pines, in
the pines. He fondled her
anklebones, mistook her
hair entirely & caught, mid-
swarm, her shuttered face

He crowned her, poppies & pepper-
berry. Taught her to sleep
under trees, skirts spread, to trap
mythical beasts. Waiting
for anything is its own kind
of fever. Or undoing. Your slow
road to ruin.