As we tiptoe the proscenium arches,
balance barefoot on the tip of a click
of spur, contemplate the beautiful curves
of water, she hunts processionary caterpillar
marching collective hopes up the laden oaks,
binoculars a skyward starling, ever forward,
upward, close; no hope of saving the world,
the nests spreading through scrubland
to playgrounds, overhanging basket-burns
for children marked by GPS; a spray-can
graffiti tin rattles in the woods, the clack
of rib-cage ball-bearing hearts
in the heartwood, and a shotgun scarring
between the old trees, a jaguar, the deer
and she scoring the bark, red or blue.
7/2020
balance barefoot on the tip of a click
of spur, contemplate the beautiful curves
of water, she hunts processionary caterpillar
marching collective hopes up the laden oaks,
binoculars a skyward starling, ever forward,
upward, close; no hope of saving the world,
the nests spreading through scrubland
to playgrounds, overhanging basket-burns
for children marked by GPS; a spray-can
graffiti tin rattles in the woods, the clack
of rib-cage ball-bearing hearts
in the heartwood, and a shotgun scarring
between the old trees, a jaguar, the deer
and she scoring the bark, red or blue.
7/2020