On the trailhead home

Graphic Myriam Ouazzani

Did you swallow the moon? 

Pinned that you are to the ground.  


Peel your belly from the soil.

I will brush off what’s embedded 


in the softness of your fur.

I ask for your name. I give you mine. 


You do not twitch but slowly open 

your eyes. What has you here 


will keep you until you sink
into the silt path. I wish I could 


scoop you up, bring you home.

But I am no match for the moon.


Your little eyes close again 

and your breaths shallow.


Please, throw up the moon 

back into the sky.

This article originally appeared in Volume 44, Issue 5, published October 31, 2023.