The forest disappears
beyond the edge
where darkness pushes
against what can be seen.
Between the seams,
the tight-laced stitches
squeeze the flesh,
sealing its wounds.
He couldn’t stand aloof.
She couldn’t stand alone,
So, they ventured a dance:
a wisp, like silk on skin,
a light in a marsh—
teasing, whispering,
‘take a chance, leave
your trail—we are here’
like laughter—
mocking, insolent,
the ground shifted
beneath their feet.
No one was on fire;
there was no fire.
Every action darkly
skirted possibility.
(March 14, 2017)
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