widows peek

i see a figure in the dark
talons clasped
dripping in blood
of rust
& vermillion
staggering at tearing
exaggerating an overarched tell
a blatant question
how are you

i see a blind mandala
prayer hands clasped
dripping in tears
of pure salinity
& surging tides
bow hunting in the dark
flowing outward unto a convex well
a patient response
i don’t care

I see a tanned pubic bone
lower limbs clasped
dripping in lubrication
of creme
& fresh pressed juice
mindful of one moment
misandry in this
a hesitant sconce
i need you

i see crows feet
sickly skin
of snow & sleet
i see a son becoming his father
love of the climb
addicted to the fall
from a widows peak
i see all of this
& yet
i am blinded by every her
after all
half the battle is in the dark

Max BarsnessComment