I scale a wall ten feet tall
and curiously fall to the forest
floor. Tree roots grab ankles, heels
feel warm with moss growing between toes.
Leaping from log to stone in search of flowers
I absentmindedly wander into an overgrown graveyard.
Here heroes died and were laid to rest.
Now wild-birds sing mourning songs and build monuments,
make-shift nests in the chests of ancient trees
with rotting cavities for mouths and sickly splintered
fingers that grasp at grey clouds.
Fingernails scratch, Orange leaves that cling to running legs.
I smell the growling breath of a stranger…
I dare not raise alarm
a figure stands glued to a corner
his black eyes on me…
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