The cliffs that point up:
are faded grey dissembled
finger hung by the thorns
Rats scurry gnaw at the flesh
the poisonous injection
of snakes seeping
danger lurking
in each crevice.  

Shadows leaping forward:
circling gown of fire:
swords made of ice
impaling the heart
the air whispers:
the shadowy feet
are never far apart
of horses that scurry
through the night.