©2021 Michael Raven

riding horses through the wood
steam blowing hot nostril flare
green in the filtered morning light
the mistwraiths flowing through grasping
her hair, tendrils flowing behind
as she races to catch the sun on the other side
breathing hard hands clenched fists
blood under nails in palms in hands
they come they come they come
with the grave digger's onion breath
and yellowed rot souls
feathers flutter in a tumble to
forest floor loam as a
man sings, the mount
enters a protected grove
Photo by Nejc Kou0161ir on

2 thoughts on “escape/

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