Near the woodland marsh,
desperate pleas gargle...

Ravens croon with
ravenous laughter...

Candlelit hearth
splays quivering shadows...

I
As sure as...

If you go fishing by morning light,
there are trinkets and jewels upon the lakeside...

You exist in every
photograph, on every wall...

I still find comfort
in the way you run your fingers...

when everyone had forgotten my name,
she rose over me...

When the sunlight
cuts the morning rain...

Salted, sticky
plucked...