Friday, October 5, 2012

November Huntress

as gazelle, first year and free
bounding the wild Serengeti
I flitted the forest flora as lover
in search of a first
real heartache

she the huntress, I the prey
the indigo and emerald butterflies
rose passion to the pearl sky,
chasers to the zenith moon

as Corelli, she played
the strings of her bow
mistress to the morning
peach on early horizon

the arrow it flew, her shot so true
struck, I fell
to the receiving earth

my heart pierced through

"Why? my lover, Why?"
I cried, as life beseech-ed me,
hold on, tender innocent!

to me she raced,
her husband as well
through thorn, thistle and brier
while sparrows sang my dirge

"Grieve not," the plump orange
spoke to the sobbing
toothless pumpkin
knelt at my side

"He should've known better
than to light beneath your tree"

in my final dying gasp,
limbs twitching
on autumn's kaleidoscope
leaves, clutched now
so dearly, I implored
with my final breath

"You fucking idiots!
How was I supposed to know
it was the opener of deer season?"