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Aug 2014
somebody left the gate open
and I am gone, past the fence
into the fields, in a blue filter,
naked and clothed in hair, snitched
by the call of a whippoorwill, ambushed
by tall grass and the merciless branches of
pines. Somebody left the gate open and I
am gone, yellow dogs peel from the bark
like old Cherokee tales and race my heels
with their tongues and big almond eyes



Somebody left the gate open.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
brooke
Written by
brooke
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