Clasping, her hair was, 
drifting, twining, coiling. 
Riverine still mist loosened 
from its passioned patterned form 
lain seamless to green, 
severed incompletely penetrated 
in probing 
tenacious testing seeking strands, 
swift tresses taking 
to change mist's essence 
and not to give, to give nothing
like a knife. 

The mist remained 
but it was not what it had been. 


The river was 
but changing dreams, 
but transient powers braided 
to a semblance of consistency. 
It changed that grayed 
mist enfolded day 
she took me there to kill me. 
Lilies blessed her restless hair 
always with their sweetness lent. 
Honey rich they did embrace 
my ardent shoulders and breast 
they traced silken 
the lengthy locks 
while she smiled 
while her matchless soft full lips 
allured's queen unpriced she smiled. 
From between her breasts 
a silver g lim 
(dark, misted day) 
no, from flexuous curve  
in gentle linen folded where 
her sweet spine quivered once 

in its flesh, once, beneath 
the adoration of my lips 
(dismal, silent day) 
hard silver struck. 

She sought, 
swift, unwarning, 
to breach and break my honed 
fierce body 
fierce to praise her 
flesh with flesh, 
honed but to her touch revealing 
softened secret 
keys of tender 
gifts of sharing. 
x took me upon the river 
green and growing fluid for deception 
in her lying 
and it changed 
as she changed 
and I changed 
for when the knife ascended 
slipping, passing ribs no barrier 
to such intent surpassing cunning 
she thought I could not 
transcend her.


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