We walk beneath a fettled roof of leaves
where beasts maraud and insects lead a line,
the trail of many bones & lost beliefs
becomes the route that guides your heart & mine,
& as we make our way through ancient paths
we cut, we hack, & slash to find our way,
to push beyond the flora’s hissing laugh
to feel our sweat drip through the leaves that sway.
The night falls fast, the sounds fall faster still,
the hoots & screaming howls in blinding dark
constricts our ribs with fear & tests our will,
their imprints on our flesh so plain & stark.
The curve of spines, of napes, around our being
more sensile than a heart, more than we’re seein’.