T H E S T A L K S A N D T H E S T R E N G T H O F T H E W I N D
There was nothing I could do to save her
she was so fragile
to have kissed her then
the thought of her body crumbling
at the lightest touch of my fingertips
made me keep my distance
so I followed:
she waited for me in trees while I hid behind hedges
when she moved into open country I stayed in the mountains
never losing sight of her except when she entered water
I always knew the spot where she would come up for air
shaking her head and smiling at me
though she couldn't see me
it was then I tore my hands on the rocks
and filled my eyes with sand and blood
swearing never
to let her
see me
she began to grow wild:
defiling herself on dung heaps
defying me to stop her
challenging my clumsy hands
we waited, crouched in a field of corn
until she came running through
her long hair
brushing the stalks forward
with the strength of the wind
we waited for the sun to make her ready
my hands held her by the shoulders
I kissed the raisins where her eyes were