DIANA Comments

For Erik H.
I have a wife.
She hunts. She's the hunter
She rides a horse to death through a stubborn land.
A land that is loath to forget.

As taut as bows
the roe deer stand bare in the fields.
When she's away I make up my stories.
She need tell me nothing.

If it grows dark and she's not returned,
to the night I then listen and wait.
How many men are there
waiting in the night.

When morning's near she creeps up on me
wanting her brother. She smells of blood.

I stroke her back.
To stroke her's forgetting.
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