instinct she is so intense in her fear: her nostrils quiver at the scent of society's danger; caught in the glare of each stranger's casual glance she turns, no defense except vigilance, gracefully shivering to the rhythm of footsteps that pass and when my eyes ensnared hers I could feel her ask me to speak for my humanness -- its inborn evil... © Jon Bohrn (1998) ("After the Rains") |