Page 35 of Into the Heartless Wood
over the wall and
into the wood,
he finds me.
Standing here.
Waiting
for
him.
I say: “You said you would not come.”
He says: “I did not mean to.” He is restless. Uneasy.
But he is here.
His face
is touched
with starlight.
I ask him: “Will you come with me?”
He says: “Where?”
“Away from the wall. Into the wood.”
He wars with himself.
Fights the pull of me.
As I ought to fight
the pull of him.
He says: “Why?”
“I am uneasy, near the wall.”
“I’m uneasy in the wood.”
“I will not let it hurt you.”
His body is tense as a hare,
ready to spring away at any moment.
“Will you hurt me?”
The question sears
like my mother’s claws under skin.
“You know I will not hurt you.”
