The Hunter

by Deanne Napurano

I tried to keep you from the window edge –

You sliced the sky with old Orion’s belt.

You dared us all to contradict our pledge –

You touched a place where we no longer felt.

I sometimes laughed at how you screwed your face –  

At last red pocked red pocked and rocks red glare.

Your tongue stuck out without an ounce of grace –

I climbed inside where life was made of air.

Two grey birds hop from limb to limb to limb –

Their songs sweet only to the other soul.

Queen Anne has lace and I my knife to trim

A stem, a leaf, my hands an empty bowl.

Tonight your red has burnt your inside black.

Tonight I sit until the stars look back.

* * * * *

Deanne Napurano, a New Jersey native, has been an award-winning copywriter for over 25 years. Recently, breast cancer excised its pound of flesh, resetting her writing trajectory. As she healed physically from bilateral mastectomy, she began to focus on more personal creative expression. Napurano is currently working on a new collection of poems that explore loss and the hope of recovery. She holds a BA in English from Drew University and an MA in English and Creative Writing from Southern New Hampshire University. To learn more, visit www.deannenapurano.com.