You are getting closer,
I can hear the crunch of soft sand
the skitter of stones beneath your boots.
Your scent fills my flared nostrils
And your hands of steel butterflies
float over proud bones luring me
to the killing fields.
Your fingers are the scent of
I lick them like fresh flesh wounds.
Your feathered crop gently brushes my shoulders,
no one can save me now, there is nothing to do,
because you have always known how
to break wild horses.
When I was just a shy girl
and you a blonde haired boy
we raced through wheat fields chasing.
Suddenly serious your adventurous
eyes made me shiver and your hands
stroked my body for no apparent reason.
I longed for your touch anytime and
kissed you open mouthed without permission.
I adored your mock anger when I hid away
and made you find me and the way you quickly
looked away when caught staring.
Autumn threw its shadow on sprouting
wheat where we lay naked smooth and wet.
Now I always knock before I enter your
reading room and you softly close your book
and pull me to you fierce, tender,
Art by Rob Heffernan
On a thorny stalk
wrapped in veiny leaves
heavy with the burden
of viscous dew
for the love of light her
corolla lifts upright
a broad faced still life
anchored to the earth
she tracks the sun across
an unpredictable sky.
At dusk she combs the air
retreating at twilight into
pearly pools of the moon.
Photograph by Heart
I’m alone and afraid, my car abandoned along a deserted highway. I’ve been walking for a while and my feet are raw , I am carrying my shoes in my hand.
When he stops and motions I hurry to his door.
Searching his face he seems harmless. Holding out my cell phone I lie. ” I will be happy to give you lift, you need just get inside”. When I decline he speeds away.
Browsing the news over morning tea my heart pounds and it is hard to breathe. Her body was found beneath some trees her shoes clutched in her hand