each night, It grew closer--
that which chased her in her dreams
and she woke fearful, sweat-soaked
and unrested, drawing her strength
more and more from the waking hours
until she began to fear
the once comforting arms of sleep.
one night, exhausted
from endless pursuit, she came at last
to a deep-woods pool of water.
how still it lay
and how sweetly it mirrored the sky
without a blemish.
under its perfect surface
smooth as an otter
it remains to be said--
when she woke, come day,
her hair hung
in wet limp strands
crossing her forehead, woven
with leaves and anointed with