Cold and broken,
the naked girl quivers like
a bent stem in the wind
and her hands are
curved like a cup
She dies
in between sobs. You want
to pet her
and whisper in her ear with warm breath.
You want her braids
to move like the palm
trees
and her hands to open
like the pomegranate as
it is sliced open, seeds
bleeding out.
She was a girl
who staggered upon the wet ground, cold and bro-
ken—
you were nothing
but a shattered twig, and as she
dies, you are delivered
into the forest.
