White Flag

Photograph from the collection at Pixabay

Before meeting this man clad in soft leather
they said I was too wild to be tethered.

But Grey Wolf shackled our hands, and I watched
his sun-beaten muscles tighten to knots,

collecting a thousand tiny drops
of salty Appalachian rain.

His body was toned by his love of the woods,
yet he walked with a limp over moss…




Poems and poetic musings by Helen Cox

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Northern. Marshmallow. Stiletto feminist. Writes about a crime-solving librarian @QuercusBooks & indie publishes historical romance. Mastermind topic: Grease 2

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