Appalachian Trail

I fear the darkness in you,
fear it because I recognize it
clear as painted glass.

I will meet you there
with silver rings and studs
that click behind our teeth.
Gold hidden in pockets
fingers check, is it still there?
And it is. It always is.
They check again.

Eyes forward,
thick fingers twist braids of hair
and ribbons of light blue memories
that lead us down,

down the path
where lines lose meaning,
nothing is literal for long.
Fingers check pockets.
The snake dropped in dreams
was pale green with a small bite
no one has seen it since.
High on our perch
we sweep the leaves clear,
yet still, see nothing.

But this is no consolation.
Where to step?
Where to find rest?
On the dry side of the rock
that faces mist
blown from the river?

A crazed rodent scurries into the trail
and jumps! straight into the air.
Its contorted body twists and drops,
convulsions slow,
claws scratch dirt,
going nowhere.

You snap photos
I stand in fear, aroused
by pink feet
that twitch as they disappear
into the swallow
and the jaw
slips back in place.