muddy prints
outside the door
the only proof of leaving
hands against the window –
share my truth
velvet combination
is wrapped in purple leaves
and crushed beneath
the rafters by a wing

a holly bush
of laurel press
two for one
transgression –
telling not of ways
the lustful vine
of magic given berth
beyond
the edge of never knowing
worries for a moment
almost gone

remembered not
the going
swept in midnight fires
strangers held
against the evening night
keepers of the canvas
watchers on the wood
nightbirds touch –
and there the morning binds

question me your questions
answer me your call –
cool as willing rests
beneath my feet
prying eyes
as fathers guard
the pathway (come alone)
sworn to them my secrets
never seen

. . .