The grass whimpers
For me, the new
Weight of my womanhood
Treading into its stalks.
‘She’s back,’ it murmurs.
I follow a lithe frame
To sunbathe at the brook,
Impress the young boys
On a swing
Climb over the gate
With a looping leg,
Breasts my only asset.
I follow me up the valley
In strides that beg asthma
To a hill where a naked man
He chases me into the wood
This me can’t help but follow.
The sky is cloudy.
She runs free, I can’t keep up
And leave the wood slowly
Sore splinter in my finger
Already drawing blood.
The pampas grass whispers
But I’ll return again.

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