She enters the room; all oxygen dissipates. Both men and women loose rhythm in their speech. Her simple poise enervates each man’s strength. As she steps the room opens wide expanding to embrace her presence; the light follows eager to become part of her retinue. The strength of her confidence causes females to fidget and their eyes fall to their frippery checking each fold that it’s in proper place. Everything about her breathes life; each person compelled to look to receive breath. Her eyes are magnetic; her body voracious. Captured by her entrance, she picks and chooses those who are loosed. Only choosing to release those she doesn’t want to consume. They call it “Beasting.” Continue reading
From My Father’s Knee-
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