by Allyson Wuerth
Under the pines
Under a pile of fall leaves
Wander the pines
Without bells
With bread crumbs
On the ground
Under my heart
Under his shoes
When the chimney's smoke does not lead me home
A twist in the sky
Making mud pies
Under the broad wand of night
It's always secret
Reeking of wind
Who will find you
Under the splinters of wood
Under the wooden heart of a father
The wind gathers itself into a small bird
The portal widens
A pimple of pine sap dimples the wrist
They become dogs
Under something crumbling
With the crushed weight of twigs
I see it coming
With the rise and fall of a chest
What's on its way
Between fields
Our fingers lace through juniper
The rise and fall of it
She hears the coffee's drizzle
And no more leaves are falling
Under the porch
Not even a bone.
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