We woke in
an inky black,
We rose
from our slumber and meandered along a textured path, feeling the way with our
feet.
Ahead there
was a glow, a faint glow of hope.
In this
glow sat a man, a man with a bee hive head.
He sat with
his back to a tree, his chest was puffed
His shoulder
blades were together, so his back would not set flat.
Occasionally,
some flittering ladies buzzed by our head.
Some
advanced army of Sophias and Cecilias; now pacified but alert.
I set my
hand on his shoulder but he crumpled into a pile; unfolded laundry.
A back
stabbing! This canker descended through his torso to his heart.
His
shoulders still taut, his chest still puffed, he adjusts on to his side.
He writhes,
Judith emerges.
“Ah, my good
friend!!” she exclaims as she passes her fingers through the wound.
She is
stung.
