Clouds cloaked the moon
and shrieked with thunder
as he lay dying in the shadow
of that humongous banyan tree.
Don't take him in they said,
this weather is a bad omen.
I sheltered him under my roof,
sliced my heart open, a fruit ripe
and ready to feed his hungry mouth.
I told him I would heal his wounds
even if it meant spilling my own blood
but when I returned with needle & thread, I caught him pouring
death into my untouched cup.
'Surely,' said I, 'you know more brutal ways of murder. Isn't poison
an easy choice of weapon?'
He pulled out an assortment of
daggers forged in fire, a knife of ice
and a long sharpened rock
tucked carefully inside his socks.
'My love,' he said, 'the choice is yours.'
In the early hours of dawn
before darkness meets light,
the banyan tree still shrieks.
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