Jeanette Winterson
You stalk me through halls footpad
softly with your eyes closed coppergauze
gaze.
You follow me through places I've
never been watch
me unseen shadowbox.
Why am I afraid of you?
You whisper your name I
hear waterfalling climb fishladder
smooth to meet you.
I had no idea, Jeanette
Winterson, how softly you
spoke, your voice casting
through me, rumbling
my bones.
You seemed taller in your books.
- dm (an original poem)