The Edge
I went beyond my boundary
into territory edging mine.
I crept through to leave no trace
to feel present, be primed.
Midnight called my 49th
year.
The trigger clicked back, I
Waited for your arrival here.
Crouched, breathing, in the
black.
I need to lift a fever now
Having lived with it too long.
Comfort, hands in my pants, my
thumb in my mouth, pen gone.
A creature nears pearl eyes
serene on the woodland mist
Edging into the night a white
paw.
With stoic dread I feed it
wishes.
I am ready for first grey light
James A Bullion, June 2014
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