In traditional dress
Long dark hair snakes braided
Arms tan and strong aid her in hard labor
Again and again she washes her shirts
In cold cascading glacier melt

Her meditation is broken when a twig snaps
With a quick glance she is not alone
It is the man with the scar
Puckered from eyebrow to cheek
He scares Menora in a good way
For his stories are full of false love
If she drops her wet clothing and tries to run
He will catch her and torture her with words
Menora is weak to the cooing of a man
So she waits

He is large and imposing
But his smile is straight, teeth clean
She drops her clean shirt in the river
It floats away with her reason
Sure as sure Canib speaks in tongue
And melts Menora inside out
Her body flushed and fluid
He gently picks her up
She drowns in his scar