escape

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.