in the woods

in the somber woods,

the spectrum dialed down

to twenty shades of gray

and the ever present black,

vines creep up the walls

of moldy shacks.

the pines are all the same,

six stories high and no thicker

than a bible spreadeagled on its back.

in a pit, i see a pooh bear high chair

with cigarette burn scars on the tray.

something sticky brushes past my ear

and i hear a muffled cry,

is that someone is being whipped?

or having a very satisfying orgasm.

wedged between the spindly trunks

of dark tamaracks and dripping firs,

squats a single-wide mobile home

with black plastic sheeting draped

across the roof and held in place

with two by fours and cinder blocks.

smoke trickles up from a crooked stove pipe

lashed to the siding with cargo straps.

the animal moans have stopped.

a blurry figure peers through a window

clouded with dirt and condensation,

then glides towards the door,

which opens with a shudder.

it's a woman wearing a paisley robe

cinched at the waist with a man's striped tie.

her red hair streaked with black and silver

hangs in long loose curls.

she tosses it back over one bare pale

shoulder, where the robe has slipped.

hello pilgrim, what can i do for you? she says.

i thought i heard someone crying,

i reply. Is everything alright?

oh that's just manny,

he's an excellent mimic,

isn't that right, manny?

i follow her eyes to a raven

perched on a pile of rubbish

pulling on some sinews and

scraps of flesh attached

to some large creature's bones.

that's right, rebecca,

manny croaks in a rich baritone.

oh. well. sorry to intrude.

no problem, pilgrim,

i don't get many visitors.

just brewed a fresh pot of coffee,

do you like french roast?

why don't you come inside

and have a cup, sit a spell?

uh, sure. that sounds nice.

if you're sure it's not an imposition.

not at all, sometimes i like

a little imposition.

isn't that right, manny?

that's right, rebecca,

manny chuckles,

and flies up to her wrist.

come on manny, let's go inside

and give our guest

a nice warm welcome.

she steps back into the trailer,

holds the door with one hand

and sweeps the other with a flourish

towards the dark interior.

welcome to my enchanted castle, stranger,

my name is rebecca, what's yours?

richard. nice to meet you.

charmed, i'm sure.