From a Shadow


From a shadow
or from broken light
shards slithing across
your skin, desire

is born. Lies taste
bitter as nettles
on a dry tongue, that
savors, withered

the notional
sting. The rutting night
rises, wet with words,

the sun is gone,
and a breeze remains
to shake the needles
on anxious pines.

Eric T. Racher