"Do you remember the way home?" she always asks, like
a woman in a fairy tale protecting her
daughter from the
dangers of the world.
"Yes," I remind her
dutifully, as
I step into the woods, haunted by
desire for certainty and her dread. I promise to leave a trail of clues
in the dark, for her or me or someone who follows.
The bread crumbs glow. none of us are alone.
Apr 16, 2020
Apr 16, 2020 at 3:50 PM UTC
"Do you remember the way home?" she always asks, like
a woman in a fairy tale protecting her
daughter from the
dangers of the world.
"Yes," I remind her
dutifully, as
I step into the woods, haunted by
desire for certainty and her dread. I promise to leave a trail of clues
in the dark, for her or me or someone who follows.
The bread crumbs glow. none of us are alone.
this is a poem for my friend whos mom died in a hit and run last year
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