only the sound of our breath
on the wind,
as stars explode,
sprinkle overhead,
poke holes in
peach-colored
sky;
bugs tell stories
in the dirt,
roots of trees
protrude from the earth,
like stiff
serpents;
weeds are welcome
here;
my dog,
sniffing along by my side,
picks up sticks,
consuming
all
with a twitching nose
pressed to
soil;
her collar tags
clicking, clacking
like keys,
tell me where she is;
stopping to rest on a log,
not a bench;
stopping never
for man-made red;
stopping never
to wait;
let’s make tracks
in the dirt,
speak only with
our eyes,
watch the sun dip,
dip,
down,
and away,
the pale sky
swells to
black,
and you find my hand;
let’s soak in silence,
forget the noise,
peel it away from our
skin,
cut it away from our
hair,
tuck it away in a mason
jar,
bury it beneath
unpicked,
flowers,
beneath
rocks
that dot the earth
like buttons,
beneath
leaves that fell away,
away,
away from branches,
twigs and stems;
the air is warm
but not for long;
the sun is rising
elsewhere;
she can’t escape her
purpose.
