witch hunter

     

i have already forgotten your hands
but not your voice
      never
                     never

echoing back at me
like a plague

i clean again, and wait

narcissus trembling, silent and watchful in the still pond
the clouds unfurling across the sky

you are growing inside of me
like a thought

your dim whispering
slender and
           controversial

weighting the palm of my hand
           the rock proving that you don’t float and maybe

just maybe

you were innocent after all