The Call

The secret call to a walk in the field at twilight:
bats that chase each other, teasing the ground,
fireflies, whose season goes as it comes,
drag lines of spiders, their desires tensile and blooming with darkness…

Or it might be the lightning on the hills at one’s shoulder
and the hills at one’s forehead
or it might be how that one stumbles over a rock,
leaps and dances, sings and slips in the mud,
and remembers how, not able to pray so deep in the body
how that one, before so deep in, then, could not stop

– Blakita Nudibranch

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