THE WOVEN MESSAGE
come hide near me
I’ll count however long I need to count the insects in the web—
I like
the still living ones—that beat of wing I hear
or
the still turned-on
ignition of the firefly—I see one’s underbelly
blink
on and off—come hide near me, somewhere in this wild grove, in its umbra green
where
my mind turns down the bed
—previously appeared with StorySouth