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.his apollo.
An arrow hit,
causing stiched
up limbs to quiver.
Blinded were my eyes.
Wild was my heart.

In waiting, I chased -
His Apollo was I.
Ne'er did I realize
this was my lot
and he my curse.

Silent nights gave
way to dreaded days.
Confessions of phantoms
limbs and accursed hymns
only dug the arrow deeper.

I don my withered
laurels and sit
on cracked ground.
Diamonds stream
from sapphires.

I wait.
I wait for the day
he might shed his
bark and branch.
I wait.

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