In the woods behind our house
are eyes I cannot see,
camouflaged reminders
no one’s waiting up for me.
When I venture
amongst the maple trees,
I’ve no idea how many spies
with fortress-like obsidian eyes
peek between branches,
tracking my advances,
strength of boots on frozen roots,
echoing screams.
When hunger overcomes them,
they dive bomb from their perches
congregations released from churches —
kinglet, sparrow, chickadee,
a holy crusade
requires anonymity.
Swooping to discover
I’ve already been eaten
by doubt, fear, and anxiety.
What is left to rifle through
is dryer than the winter woods
and poisonous to consume.
©2023 | K.Hartless
Cover Art: “In the Heart of the Wood and What I Found There” by Richard Moult





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