Counting the leaves on this fake vine because I did not hear what I think I did

If I just close my eyes

I’m back in the mud

arms sore and knees stiff

cold from the jungle mist, but it’s forgotten

We are waiting

hoping in the tall grass

beneath the stilt cabin

beneath the well-fed moon

we are silent

watching the sun

tickle the waking earth

After we’ve run,

we are still hiding

after the boys run,

we are mourning

We hear the wolves

crunch weeds beneath their feet

and we let the soil

swallow us

in dissociation,

confining self in

surrender of sound, of breath

I have shrunk

and I am weary

shattered

heavy

There’s a scratching reminiscence

like ‘why am I always afraid?”

and only getting wrong answers

Waiting again

for people to change

finding the humor in it

Running again

from the way it feels

from the maze I built

the night

I forget