11/05/2025

Chased until the chase was gone, 

an arrow one of parts-two golden his gain,

brutish serpent victor and another egoist;

her quiet stepping feet happy to walk

a quiet forest trail and ponder

the serene way of her goings on,

made to hustle and blister by the iron blunt

of the second arrow;

hardened nature within to bind her sweet soul,

wood collapsing, ruptured skin and her mind

soothed to consider with delicate observation

the tragedy of man and the failings of republics,

her gift the bough about the best head,

forever fined for her own exaltation if

ever-preferenced to tasting his terrible love.