two lovers diverge in a yellow wood

and I get down to the business

of hunting mushrooms and kismet

all underneath the rusted out hood

of an abandoned Cadillac’s bent grimace

 

then strip off all my fraying clothes

and toss them creasing over tree branches

bend down and crawl among the rooted trenches

spiking holes for new planting in the wake of toes

while squeezing dirt until each finger blanches

 

my love will call for me but I am too far gone

to hear an idling engine buzz like bees–

that could be voice cascading through the trees

yet if that were her it’s sure that I’d have known

it was not just the crickets’ theremin on the breeze

 

my love will search for me and find just rags

like the Caddy cast aside I am out of place but home

inside a cave where I will turn to bones

this is my face imprinted on the crags

I am not lost although I am alone

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