Sta.sh
She walks beside a reaper late at night,
Her pleas hung as a noose around his bones:
They paced the willow seemingly alone
But the moon grew brighter in her spite.
The reaper breathes a sooner, heavy sigh
And listened, hallowed, by the woman's shriek
That ricocheted like bullets; their mystique
Dependent on a pleading mother's cry.
Beneath the willow, now, lay two departed
Beside a reaper who'd just barely started
To tear the world from its triumphant lie:
The lie of living honest in the womb
Of gods they knew in faith, but shunned in doom;
And men they killed but never questioned why.
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