The Cold Seeped Into My Dreams

The dawning dread of the suns departure I sink with the

seasons

Into a thicket

Nest of

bramble. A thorny

cocoon.

A misty forest of overgrown orchard

Our Hound treads lightly through dew Clings

to blades of grass threading through Spokes

of a rusted carriage wheel

Wood rotted into earth

A circle of dead gray trees

Like toppled tombstones

Bleached with time

Petrified on a copper carpet of pine

Beneath our feet, the roots spread, still alive

Soaking the soil

Daylight is fading

The Hounds' leash drags on the ground

Kicking up wet leaves and petrichor

The air is heavy with pre-storm pressure

When the deer appears, the twig snaps like a gun

Shattering our stillness

She, me, my sister mirror, same but different stops

Calls a warning for the Hound

Who approaches the antlered ancient thing

Tense with awe

Too large for this wood

Noble, proud, the creature leaps down

Mask of deer and woman

Now I

Pinned by velting branches of bone

Her eyes wild and angry shifting

Skin pulled taut

Barring yellow teeth her face

flickering

Her throat is a tomb

Her cords cut sinew

Strangled raw whispers

Lets see what kind of hungry you are