stalking

stalking, originally uploaded by EGJ.

There is someone out there. Skip a beat.
Out there is someone, beyond pane, pot, stalk. Don’t look. Hands gloved red and a black dog.
The plants have grown thick around us. Like sleepwalkers, we live inside the thicket. Waiting for what?
The kiss of the sun, or the sudden probe – a camera lens that catches the light and snaps.
A prince that cuts us to the quick: all flower beds need weeding, Briar Rose. All the red, red roses that were white before his blood. Yours. With love. Alone.

Before all this I read a poem by Achmatova. It is something about the evening fall, smoke, a predatory touch. About kittens and birds, and horsewomen.

You are beautiful in your obscurity. I hope I will never grow sharp.