The Possibility

Even as he recalled, the enemy

whether animal or human, was warm

the evil traceable as moisture or fear

to a body, breathing

unwittingly, perhaps his own

breath felt as fire...

Hid there a stranger, frail and implacable,

a lighted mine blooming in his chest

reflected against a ruse of windows

his demon breathing on the glass.

Will wake at once

find himself wrinkled, usual, warned;

Will cry out "Chance

O let me be faithful to my own..."

Neither by land rising, nor seas falling

will escape, but stricken, will be survived

by water flowers, scavenger eyed.