Unmaking of Fleece.

By Tanmayee Paruchuri

With a hand combing her wool

Another holding a soothed steel splinter sealing her youth 

She stole the fleeting plush, keeping it far from the moon.

The scent it let out, spilling cherries on snow

Cooing to whimpers,

Every breath bit the cold. 

It was crawling to me 

A hungry beast, 

But the earth had to sunder 

Before it made me a feast, 

I strung out my nerves 

Threads honing subjection— 

Submission by me.

A tongue had traversed, 

A far noise I held deep, 

Placed a pall over sheep’s fleeth.

The light fell to the white 

Its soul opened to me 

Glossed over the iris 

We both could see, 

Held in its scene 

A far hungrier beast 

Stared back at me.

By Tanmayee Paruchuri