The innocent lass
picking apples on a
tumultuous Thursday evening
in the barrels of the earth
the wolves were howling hungrily for blood
she took a walk to the sea
and wet her locks in the foam
guarding the shore
as eager as a hawk
she took a shell and a rock and held them together
above the waves
sea snakes biting seagulls
making the waters bloody
she could read in the contortions of the sea
breaking waves anxiously
just like breaking fasts
she was an iceberg
drawing in the middle of nowhere
as cold as her unspoiled conceit
rootless
and bare