Tiny Victories

We trudge soft mulch
viscous drops drench your lips-
wet skin tastes metalic.
I crane my neck;
within your tomb I shriek and shudder.

We slept too late.
Afternoon shadow-jumps
with red Mikado flare
on cornbread curtains;
behind your windows was a furnace.

Sly soft black shade
flickered across your chest
emaciated pale-
a barren savanna, and
among your thicket was my hideout.