Jun 25
Fleetwood's picture

Beasty

I was at the top of 
the mountain, standing 
on its auburn and muted 
grey granite plateau. 

The birch trees bloated the valley’s belly
and slid onto the cattle’s plains. 

I closed my eyes and 
stood like Christ the Redeemer:
fixed, unyielding. 

Until the rumble came. 

It jiggled the belly of the valley
and screamed to the mountain. 
The leaves on the trees quivered
as the being brushed passed. 

I heard its steps getting closer
to the edge of the mountain. 
I had always heard it roam
in this forest, but I had never 
heard it come at my with 
such aggression. 

Thump,
    thwick, 
        tisp. 

I saw love growing in hunger
to devour my heart. 

Fleetwood's picture
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