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  • We hid mountains under the sheets, a rising core

    of flowered Appalachians. You thrust me into the shapes
    of krumholtz. Fairy forests at the edge of rock, trees twisted

    into storm. Cougar on granite; eager feasting at the warm flesh

    of a doe. We hid the wind, the sudden first warm day of April,
    snow still in the shadows of the oaks. Heat drove us

    from our cave onto the rocks above the precipice. We tumbled, plummeted

    into the gorge. Colliding in air, we crashed to the water.
    Into the current, over the falls, into the pool. A sudden mountain

    pool. Lit by trilliums and bloodroot. Coo

    of a mourning dove. The first white-throated sparrow sings, flies from
    under the sheets smack into the still-closed window.

    Crumples, chest fluttering, to lie stunned on the bedroom floor.
  • This poem appeared in the Feb/March issue of edificeWRECKED, an online arts, writing and poetry journal, a few years ago.

    Image: "Wild," by me.
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