Sacrifice is a Different Animal Altogether
Wilderness. Bright cupola. Trimming the bittersweet and
raspberries along the marsh. Hands reddening easily in
of the air. The salt of it. The particular wakefulness
of pursuit-all-over-again. Yes. The rugged
to negotiate the delicate new growth of leaves. Tendrils. Little
invitations. Come here,
a moment. How the sailor can become
the ocean he'd meant only, he thought, to sail across. Closer.
No, the part
after that. One of us is going to have to say it first.