Francis Scudellari

He
put on
cocky watch
towering stands,
long-reaching throws off
shadows of square-cut limbs
loose-draped in rough skin
to guard against
dawn's thick air
creeping,
chilled
his own
flagging strength
braced by sipped fire
sharpening fifty
paired eyes that monstrous ring
his still, uncrowned head
each visited
by just one
moment's
sleep
well-timed
in rolling
blinked-lid cascade
to stop-frame project
scenes from dewy-green fields
keeping a beast for
the jealousy
of too fast-
fading
robes

She
ill-changed
by light, blind
rage-punishment
unearned for baring
another's intentions,
his wont of too much
never sought for
or seeking
her was-
nymph's
once so
sleek, well-drawn
lines pulled wide, smudged
till broken, transformed
to a dark spotted bulk
she awkward carries
on four legs, mind
always led
circling
back
tethered
to a gnarled
soil-clutching tree
with taut-stretched chain's forged
gray, heavy iron links
slow raked, in-cutting
circumscribed arcs
through bitter,
thinning
blades