Matilda by the brook
She brought me nightmares she kept for play
That encounter in the wood
Her face was secreted by the night in her hair
How was it that I did not stagger?
How was it that I did not flee?
Beckoning me toward the water
The tangible moon menaced
And lit her
Glimmering eyes
Her livid lips
Mischievous grin
Sylphic naked body
This sylvan creature
The gnarled trees stirred at her behest
Encroaching mists drew to where she stepped
And the dark (the dark)
The cold of her hand
That turned my dying light black (black)
She would accept all I had to offer
Yet ask for just one thing
With timbered fingers she caressed me
An eclipsing kiss
Then she was gone
At the coming of dawn
I forsook the empty world
And followed the impressions
She left upon the forest floor
Her bare feet had marked
The path I had already known
M.M. — September MMX
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