Firecracker in hand, matchbook
encased in the fist of my heart,
a burning car roadside and footprints
leaving soot in a Rorschach parade.
Wearing a blanket of leaves,
dark green folds over my shoulders,
I’ve carved your initials in a tree
with a thousand initials in the tree already.
The vanishing point of the road
ends in your open mouth, the pavement
the tonal concrete of your voice,
and endless song echoing past the forest.
Leaping, a deer in the woods, but in the trees,
far overhead, a great airborne animal
birthed when no one was watching, no one
but me, looking for you.