we slept close

under zippers and stars

and woke to the sound of wolves all around us

—

we howled along

and were sung back to sleep

the sound of wolves

still echoing all around us

—

in the morning

the river whispered

—

quietly

reminding me

that

fallen trees

and beaver dams

shape the path

and change the flow

—

by what falls

you can see what will stay

and what will go

i unlace myself from him

then the grief of being touched

by someone that's not you

in places otherwise still branded by us

it creeps thick, like ivy

a heavy haunting

—

tangled and tethered

veins and vines

crawling up carotid arteries

search… ing

for light

for breath

—

up stone walls

and rickety old staircases

through

forgotten

closets

reaching

an empty attic

—

where a closed window’s shutters

cast a painful sliver of light

on an old box labeled 'us'

still up there

from before

when the only person

you’ve ever loved

almost takes your life…

it’s quite a lot to reckon with

—

when the weight of finding love again

makes you more nervous

than the grief of living without it…

it’s quite a lot to reckon with

—

when the police department

you reported to

was simultaneously being sued

by the accused

in a sexual assault case

involving your former high school English teacher

and a student

only a few years after he was your teacher…

it’s quite a lot to reckon with

—

when just four years later the accused is charged again

and again… and again…

it’s quite a lot to reckon with