With Breath the Slight Sway of Standing

Where are the birds?
There are no birds here
and so we look for the lurk, the slender man,
the face in the trees.
There there!
There he is!
But she,
she bends, parts legs with a slight sway of standing,
to step in and out of the trees, the fallen, the rot of it
and swings, swims through the green waters.

She is not moving fast.
She is slow
and holds her own terrors worse and close.


Copyright © 2013, Deborah Alma
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