White Forest

It could flip you on your back,

seize your lips, hair and skin,

grip and devour your eyelids
whilst you lie prone and proud in it.

It could leap from hill to dale,
it lived in all places, everywhere and everywhere.
You could not take it easily,

for it moved, fast as the wind,

always hungry,
never resting on the forest leaves.

It could swim, gracefully,
like the jellyfish in silver,
and the harder you stare
the more your reflection fades,
eyeless, faceless.

But its eyes burn powerfully,
in the wild and muscular animal body,
as it grasps you

it was called love,
it was cold and us.