Sunday, October 10, 2021

Beatrice

I weep for her. John weeps.

Our minds fracture into

search parties. Hunting

on beyond six days

& seven nights, we fear

as she fears. If we are not

to find her, give us a caverned

corpse, a limb, a scatter

of bones to make a cairn of.

We know how strong preys

on strong, how the strike

the wound, the play

plays out, memory of each

mouse, spells of defiance

attempts at escape, casual

buffets & final blow. Like

her namesake, she’s taken

too young. We know

she fought. We travel far

lifelong. We are never done.


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