What prey becomes

What prey becomes
during silent hours
of ponderance
that solo
conference

which lives
in the lull
just before
the cull

She puts wild flowers in her hair
signaling
she's without
the slightest
care

worn

Because that siren song
was once
long-ago
sung

and oh...
how it stung.

So hear... now

we weep

in-between the silent beats

that still feed

their ever-pernicious
needs

And we run...

tho
to be fair

for us...
it's never
for
fun.







Exe
​05/29/2022

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