IV "The Escape"

Off in the distance all day long 

Take away the lonely hound

Like an eagle wing now headstrong

The widow ten feet off the ground

 

His feathers are blazing with fire

My eyes burn to his smoke

Now the widow flies even higher

With a noose tied I choke

 

Soaring through the darkest mountain peak 

Wandered til he found the way

Acupuncture in his shadowed beak 

I cut the rope with dismay 

 

Euphoria, woe, rapture and despair 

The widow as the sketcher

Erase, draw, write it with my blood in air

Crossbow as my departure

 

Drafts are only when rivers part 

Breaking the chateau

The levee shakes and starts to fall apart 

Then flies in flocks of crows

 

The widow does not land strong on his feet

Crumbling to the compost grounds 

Neither does the one that lie beneath

Knees crush with his tail around 

 

Closed, tight, sharp feathers still smother me

I  recover with his wounds

My pulses have skipped every beat

But why am I turning so blue?

 

Never have I felt cold and protected

I've escaped the habit of living 

Until the escape became the habit

The widow kept on chirping