The Satyr

We are following the stones.

Water brims in my every step.

The branches clamor together...with hands like spears.

Her tail bleeds the color of her horns.

Our coats protect us in the edgeless autumn.

The light in the sky is draining all.

With a tumble, heads collide then lay.

Simmered hair retains its scent of orange.

I’ve jumped from the rigid leaves.

Her soft face speaks from the bloody fog.

Life can no longer leak.

My stale skull has left me naked.

Fooled with no redemption from our one clash.

I’m broken under a coiled moon.

There are new stones to follow.