Surrender
I must stop interpreting every pang and twinge.
I keep one ear pressed to my abdomen,
another to my breast, shushing passersby,
wishing my blood would quiet down
on its endless commute. Tiny tunnels
lousy with interlopers, cellular refugees floating
toward some faraway island destined
to be conquered and burned to the ground.
If smokestacks and missile silos mock
this primal ache, wave your white flag
and I’ll scout a new path. In the middle
of the woods, pockets full of crumbs
and moonlit stones, we’ll meet at last.
And when the trees go black
against the green-blue twilight,
and bats emerge from their earthen wombs,
I’ll carry you home.
Fort Collins Courier
