For years I ran from it, not so sly fox
scurrying through gnarled forests, tainted lairs
housing lethal smiles, always fearing clocks,
their hackings timing my demise, those stares
from loved ones final as planets flooded
and lifeless there in clearings I shunned as
bats retreat from light, my scarred face hooded
from sight, till running fell to crawl, my last
gasp a kneeling rasp for help. I can't swear
just what happened next. I'm told how I slept
under a willow tree for days, nightmares
hurling howls from my parched mouth. Someone kept
feeding me sips of water. I awoke.
She smiled at me, then left. We never spoke.
Roger Armbrust
March 7, 2008
