Lightning Bug Situation • This Body
Leaves, on an old suitcase:
Wet and red,
Buried deep in the woods in the fall.
We stumble upon it as we walk in the rain,
Our hoods pulled tightly over our heads.
These eyes, hands, and feet.
Lost in a dream.
Find my way back:
We crouch down and push the leaves off to the side.
A rusted buckle breaks right off.
I look at you and you smile at me,
Your wet hand on my shoulder.