It was the presence.
Somewhere magnolias
were in bloom.

At this moment, there
was a meek withdrawl
sidestepping the explosion.

In the hour of
waking. Moon was sleeping,
morning after the acid attack―

putting ahead the
dilemma, before the sun rises
retracting the claim for martyrdom.

Anxiety was writ
large on the volte-face of earth
when it failed to lasso the witch.