Foe

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.