A rough place I return to often. The
wildness of blood between my legs. A
savage quiet when the frogs
finally sleep. Heartbreak like hard
candy. Slow orange days slicked down
with aloe. My feet fighting with the sand.
Hammering stakes down. Always
conquering something or other. Ribbons
of fool’s gold under my boots. Eyes
open underwater. Fires burning ancient
forests down to the dirt. The
claustrophobia of open landscape. My
own animal tracks. Deep pockets of
rock. Geothermal pools of hot green
bloom. Static on my skin and in my hair.
The rope trick of thirst. A reminder of
something I’ve forgotten. Woman with a
gun. The blood orange that is darker than you’d expect inside. A body in the
distance. A secret with a heartbeat.