escape –

certain of a new terror and fed to the wolves who have nothing to do with it

i glide through the night on highblades and sudden precision only wanting

to be near you there where i can sense your presence by the scent

of your perfumed wrists and hold tight to your powerful embrace as you

cry it was not me, it was not me -- it was someone else, she said, an errant

god who had grown tired of his disciples and gone wandering in the wood

looking for fungus and bark to sustain him -- When is

a square not a square? When it is a circle, you suppose, you, the

wicked one gone astray through multiple thunderclouds

holding on to the legend of the white buffalo-woman -- Where

can you hire your Sisters to hold you close to the fire

as you relent, unburdened and restrained, here, at last to

sustain your marrow surging --

*