Hidden in the woods—a mask
for Halloween, a mask
for winter. We slip into our holiday
frocks, never shedding a single
article or appendage. Soon
we grow, overgrow, tangled
& wild, weary & wistful—
fear holds a small knife to the tubes
of your throat. I’m powerless.
I can only save myself.
Please, love, don’t swallow
your questions. Let’s drink the forest
& forget the animals,
the brambles stuck infinitely
in their soles. Hawks are hawkish.
Eels squirm. You can’t remember
the urge that brought us
together, or forget the urge
that’s pulling you away: our ragged
arms, the sick, suckling meat
of our hearts. Before you discard
your mask, go & ruin the game
for all future players.
Don’t break my body, break it free.
— tory adkisson