On the trailhead home

Fringe ArtsPoetryIsabela Marino — Published October 31, 2023 1 minute

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.