Eyes by Michael H. Brownstein

She wrote her dialogue in verse,

her emails in near rhyme, her thoughts

as sonnets, haiku and ballads,

but her eyes could not hide her fear

of aversion, her lack of understanding

dissension, expressions of danger and fear,

the rising poem like the hunter's moon,

deep and glowing from the depths 

of the dark waters of night into midnight's

rampage of nightmare, agonies, and terrors