For my angry racoon.
We scratched and bit,
And clawed and gouged.
No fiercer love in these woods.
*
But as passions died with the sun,
Huddled together to face night.
Our scarred bloody bodies as one.
*
Tongues are busy cleaning spoils,
Limbs tangled pop from furious fur.
Eyes filled with desire peep from robber’s masks.
Dean Reeves
My Poetry
“Bring the wind” by Dean Reeves
“Forgotten Dancer” by Dean Reeves
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