Jessica L. Walsh

FROM HIS HEART A SPEAR

 

Antlers grew from his temples
human skin ceding seamless
to bone and velvet.

That first morning, as I leaned closer to look,
he held my face in his hands

and soon my head ached
with longing and phantom pain
as I wondered why I had none.

In spring his neck darkened
and a hard bump pushed outward.
By month’s end a single black feather
lay flush against his skin
as natural as a raven’s.

Sometimes his hands were bark,
and other days, cool scales.

Whatever he became, I stayed myself,
growing content to fatten and dim
in favor of his marvels.

 


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