hunter’s moon III

We are but a poison to ourselves,
a beautiful, beautiful poison…

in these passing hours
I hold my head high, sniffing the winds.
ills are on the horizon so I take to the stream
downwind and manage the edge of town.

                         ***

later, in the rearview, a shadowy blonde
I glimpse. Ah beauty! so fleeting & momentary
in passing, can it be? Nay, a sleight of light
how it glistens in the grays.

But then I hear the shot,
feel its heat
& know they have caught up to me.

one last chance - your place -
& with the bottle between us
& the poison taking hold,
our wings emerge as we prepare to soar,

knowing they will be too late.

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