Shadows of the black oak above them
play like jaguar dappled spots
across the now enraptured,
reclining lovers
nestled on
their bed
below
the
canopy
of leaves
gently trembling and
whispering in the breeze.
a gray squirrel scampers out on
a crooked limb, crouches peering
down and scolds the pair of creatures
blocking his imperative search for fat acorns.
a circling vulture eclipses the mid-afternoon sun,
casts a winged shadow, a ghostly hand that
chills her naked shoulder where his
fingers lovingly linger, warmed by
their tenderness and carnal fire,
their satisfying lust
away from the
life sucking
dust of
fear.
One small
tear rolls down
her cheek chased
by another. what’s wrong
he says, are you unhappy?
no. god help us no. it feels like
we stole this and I’m afraid that it’ll
get stolen back. we have to find a way,
a place, where we can be together.
do you know of such a place,
my dear sweet boy?
not yet, but I trust
that we’ll find one.
a living place
to accept
us.
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