in your chest where your heart is meant to pump blood
into your veins. Only the echo of a thump thump remains. The air has left
your lungs empty or slowly they fill with stones washed in the creekbed.
Now branches tangle the grass an obstacle that catches your feet
twists your ankles until you fall. The sky is no longer blue
but a hopeless shade of gray that bleeds into your skin
until you can no longer see the freckles on your arms.
Someone picks you up by your armpits, and mud clings to your cheek
fights to keep you in line with the earth. They turn you on your back,
leave you to gaze at dulled stars. Cold hands trace the hole in your chest,
wipe the mud from your face. Packs the wound, fills the space with mountains
that rejected you to begin with. In a broken whisper you catch their attention
ask them when the mountains abandoned you, how did you feel?
