You showered me in stolen gold,
wowed me with your bow, your arrow,
and when I begged to leave your tree house
you bound my hands with vine, stripped off my rags,
and told me soft against my face
how green was your favorite color,
how you loved the smell of pine,
sap on your legs, in your hands, down your throat.
You were like a fox wise in the woods
but with a soft underbelly, a coat to keep us warm.
I feared winter, feared the ice would overtake us,
like water, like death, like a snow globe, you said,
we are caught in continuous weather.
But you had done this before, a con-artist for all time.
You entered me in disguise—a beggar, a pirate,
a solider, a man in a dark hood.