Breadcrumb #299


She moves to the rhythm of the flames, flickering,
nearly disappearing into the darkness and shadows,
as her arms stretch upward
and blend within the tree tops

I can feel the movement of her hips, solemn,
longing to find a place within themselves
Wild, untamed, 
She starts to run, through the forest,
through the blackness, and brush, and pits of mud -- chasing fireflies that light her way to a clearer horizon

I watch her as she walks her milky body into the lake
Her thighs part the waves as if her incentive
Is to drown the opaque pieces she does not want
the light to see

She grasps the darkened water
and cradles it gently to her lips
like a chalice full of thorns and tussled leaves --
Splashes blankets of moonlight on her face
And begs to have just one last chance
One last chance to argue with the sun

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