The Silent Apprentice

"...against the wind ...always, against the wind"

The grass rustles.

"Stop... freeze... every muscle... even your heart must be still"

Breeze in a graveyard. Nothing, save the distant oblivious bleating of a billy goat in a lush paradise.

His master's voice strokes his ears like a thought echoing in from a distant past...

"You are lightning... deadly... seen too late... invisible, without scent... without sound... not even the grass must feel your presence."

The silence persists. The earth moves beneath the goat, bringing it's light content bleats and content chewing of the curd even closer.

"Your arm... it extends past the tip of your fingers... past the tip of your blade... your reach is endless..."

The bleating ends.

"Tomorrow... we use a person."

My Rival, Rage

He thinks I do not know, my lover. He thinks I am able to ignore the rancid breath of the cold that kisses my skin when Oloworimi steals away from my bosom in the grey of night.

My love cowers in a corner at those times, orphaned by its obvious failure to keep Oloworimi in my arms till morning spreads her wrapper over nights beard.

He Steals away as if to keep some clandestine appointment...