There is that smell of iron and sweat
and you say if you were a hunter
there would be no chance now
it is so easy to track–

if this blood turns me from girl to woman
why not from sparrow to hawk

you bring out a hood, a glove–

or a minnow to carp
but you reveal a hook, some bait–

so I imagine myself moss
the shock of red on the dead tree
absorbing and being absorbed
learning how to cover and devour
everything I touch.

Angharad Williams
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