You didn’t let me know you would just turn the browned bronze knob and open the creaking door, look at me, worry smeared on your face like eye liner smeared on a crying mother surrounded by tangled chestnut locks bedraggled from a night of fretting.                                                                                     Skull in my bony grip I fight this shrew … More “Woods” are the places a man can go to heal, to be healed with the ones they love.