the devil's picnic
your soft voice
in the nocturnal forest
where we were surrounded
by the feeling of trees
black shapes shifted
in the back of the woods
a lot like sendak
and we layed our items out
safely
on a blanket
crafted from hair
a breeze snuck in
from someplace
distant
and the animals
were taciturn
you showed me your wares
and i was astonished
a yellow moon hung above us
slowly filling
with ominous orange
and there was no one around
not even the small breathless ones
that carried us there
i think even the grass was asleep
and you poured me the potions
from your travelled cup
and i drank them
thinking nothing
nothing is so unbearable as
being strange