Birch-Tree Dryad

A moonbeam will o' wisp
Dancing in the starlight,
Feet caressing the dew-
Strewn dusk of the grass
Beneath her feet.
Beauty beyond sharp-
Shiny reality, hair pale
As moonlight, pale
As the birch bark
Of her home,
Her pillar of life, its spiderweb of
Branches against
The moonlight, pale pale white
Speckled with nut-brown
Scars. Dewy new-green buds
Are tomorrow's daytime children
As she dances
In the moonlight,
Eyes raised to birch-pale stars
Arms thrown out in ecstasy.
And as the first lemon light of dawn
Breaks over the misted gray hills
And dulled brick walls,
She melts
Into the pale pale birch branches
Behind the paper-skin
Her heart still beating the slow life rhythm
Of the moon.
The rainbow-golden orb
Fills the world with color
And she sleeps, the silent consciousness
Of those close to death;
She does not see her cruel
Companion, his red flannel jacket
And sea-blue denim,
One tanned hand gripping the false
Plastic handle of a
Humming steel-sharp chainsaw waiting
To dig its ruthless
Raping teeth into
The still, scarred trunk of
Her birch-pale flesh
And spill her blood,
Scarlet,
Into the sunshine.