She grated the kernels between her teeth
and slid between wooden shadows
to gnaw at nature a little longer.

He chased her scent through rolling clouds
and slipped on running mud and cobs
as rain filled her footprints.

He knew her name no longer.
Hated her for making him forget
he was no longer alone.

His anger stunk of dead birds.
She remembered hurt and red
as she whimpered under wet leaves.

In his silence he searched
for some forgotten thing
then found what was hidden,

wrapped in dead leaves,
fallen through his fingers
like cold earth.