Maria

Aked to ferment desire, in a place without windows, trees surrounded by wire, I descend by mountain mule, to warm my toes, used to playing it cool, a young woman without child, love free to bestow, it's been a while, his cabin is smoky blue, my smiles won’t allow, what our ancestors refused, logs blaze a midnight choir, more to life than show, they're hard roads to fire, I trace his arms for sinews, chance to get to know; my own rinse of perfume, it’s in his dancing eyes, do I hurt him with NO, maybe bring in line, more to joy than sorrow.