Friday Poem

Intuition

Melissa Woods

eyes crawl down her neck

nestled in thick patches of forest

nocturnal

waiting

 

he is an owl

talons curled into a branch

still

quiet

 

the owl spreads watches with luminous eyes that cut

through the inky night

and she is

leaving leaving leaving

 

 

the flick of a match

cold and bright and the smell

of smoke billowing in plumes of gray

dust that smacks like briny waves

 

but she knows and she knows and she knows that

love is a spark but

fear gobbles oxygen with

vicious vicious viscious

words

 

and fear is energy

energy

cannot be created or destroyed.

 

it

only

changes

 

form.