Blowing in the wind,
but there are no answers here:
here, where the birds are silent
and the forest keeps its secrets.
A young woman’s body turning gently
in a winter breeze; the creaking branch
from which she hangs; the swollen polyp
of her tongue—what does it mean?
What tribal ritual, what brutal revenge
was enacted here? We may never know….
and the wind can tell us nothing.