The Descent

I love to walk with Sue,

my arms tightly around her

waist.  She always begins

where I end.  But,

There is a look she gets

when she sees the horizon lay

like a bolt of fabric yet unwound

by anticipating nimble fingers.

  Her eyes become those of a

coral snake stalking its prey:

intense yellow under satin

warm red smelling skin.  My grip

tightens to bring her back

home.  Within barbed-wire fences,

home, wide as a campfire’s light

home, where I can touch

her flushed cheeks,

grab her fleeing body.

When she rose up

past the fences, up

past the fire’s light, up

from the land,

I shot her down.