trails in mare/

©2021 Michael Raven

with weary teeth and eyeful regret
they shambled sloth through the swamp
until those thorns flesh riven
and the song ghosted softly in their ears
thumb-pressed bruises 
soft flesh of arms and thighs
marked mustard and ochre the ogre 
love lies

it lies there still, in the blasted heath and
in the blacked woods with monstrous teeth
waiting waiting waiting for
the slumbering meals to arrive

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