Walking Away

by Stephen Jarrell Williams

Your fists hammering on my back,

I’m walking away, deeper into the dark forest,
your imagination, jealousy, depravity
reeking from the hollow of your throat
yelling, demanding that I stop,

and I do stop, wanting to tell you off,
turning around, facing you, standing there
in your thick coat, jeans, boots,
steaming breath,
piercing eyes,

there was a time I craved you, everything about you,
but this dream I’m waking from, will turn you
into more of an animal,

you realize you’re down to the last fold of night,
smiling, unzipping your coat, dropping it on a scatter of pine cones,
unbuttoning your blouse slowly, letting it flutter down behind you,
your white bra snug against your breasts,
you hold your arms out for me to finish you,

and I do finish you,

leaving you in the woods, your legs squeezing trees,
humping boulders,
caressing yourself into fits,
defying the sanctity of the land,
mud between your toes,

finding dried fakes of earth in my bed,
my bathtub always with a smear of you,
footprints on my carpet,
morning beer cans lining the kitchen counter,
your smooth voice inside the refrigerator.