I lost my mind at Lascaux
Where I spied the red ochre handprints and understood
Why trace the arc of an arrow through the sky in red
Unless you understand that when the shaking hand misses the mark
Dry mouths at home will cry out in hunger
A hart makes no expression when its life is spared

When his wife came home sick, he said
"This isn't her."
And together with kin and neighbors,
He sought to beat the fairy out of his home.
He burnt her in the fire.
He wrapped the black fairy in a sheet and threw it in the river.
They found him in the church, whispering,
"It won't be long now.
It won't be long."
Before the altar, he had knelt
And pressed his soot-caked hands to the floor.