'Shy'

In a picture book of your fancy, you learned. Page by page, stories with their illustrations were read and absorbed with an unbridled hunger; even tenacity towards the end, your eyes small and heavy under ochre ceiling lights, aged.

You learned about how a being is stable in their true environment but cannot be threatened with isolation or capture from it, less their own polymerization or decomposition is catalyzed; how one dissolves in their own tears...


How often they weep
from knowing their form; hiding
their hideous skin

Trails of tears, shining
in the moonlight led hunters
to their shame, sorrow

One followed the sounds
of a similar weeping
made by a hunter;
and it was quickly
caught in a sack; crying still
as it was taken

But the hunter stopped
when the weight became lighter;the sobbing no more.Under Hemlock treesrevealed to himself the loadof tears and bubbles.

( _")