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

Waits.

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

Mutinously.

But I’ll return again.