Poetry

Your grumbling deep voice shakes my bones
It is quivering yet
Hard as rocks
It’s as if some well is buried long and furiously in your gut
From here shoots
No,
Raptures
Those Maleficent tones
You stare at me from above
And place your weather worn hands too close
Much too close
For comfort
Get away get away
The child screams
Shaking and sweating and
Aching
To crawl away