'I thought I saw something', is all she

sees--as moonlight, so her shine moves

indirectly.

the heightened allowance of two trees

appear as if they escort a satyr from

cover.

while he steps forward wearing a biege

trench coat, like Robert Stack from:

Unsolved Mysteries.

horns as rogue branches deformed by

blows to cycles, the dance-broken

amorata of his crown.

an ancient boyishness layered over by

sudden curdles.

deepset overread eyes, ruthlessly

sideways with a goat's revelation--

cheekbones defined enough to anticipate

a fish's pucker.

outlied by a copper-colored beard, thick

with nervous curls as of the rest of his

body.

his hooves' harsh prints moist-test the

mud.

he stands there bracing for the cellular

shock treatment of ringing a colossal

doorbell, not knowing why.

he is as he does--which are two things:

step forward from two trees & back, with

no memory to offer contrast.

Selbst the satyr doesn't know he's dead.