I mean, there was the deer, but of course there’s always the deer.
Then when we stood in front of the trees in the back of my house for probably 30 seconds.
I wasn’t counting but really it felt like 30 hours, like the trees
were a circus tent,
and your face pulled back (your skin
a wild form)
How we were all wild then,
and more importantly:
lonely
Also I had this love for you like I didn’t know you well enough just yet
Like if you had scratched my scalp all would have been normal —
I still would have walked into the woods (with the deer);
would have turned off my bedroom lights before leaving, in the mornings
Maybe it was when we brushed our teeth together for the first time
that I knew your hair had a certain pull, my fingers
all tangled up in its threads like long strands of blood cells
