My hands cover
my mouth, forbidden.
I caress the thought
of us, slashing upon
it. Selfish, abandon
only the enjoyment.
Why? It creates
the twister, slanted rain,
and hate. Pardoning
the new blood, naïve.
Slowly it skips, hitting
me. White knuckles,
black eyes, heart. Wide
open prairies, fine cut
mountains, dammed love.
Deidre Grotbo
