I walk with the hunted,
stepping between leaves;
the spaces where nothing
has fallen.
I pace myself
with the slow,
with the hungry,
with the midday shadow.
I see no reason to run
until I see myself
in someone.

Holding our uncaught
breaths, we tread
into a place
where every limb is bare
and no space exists,
But for the clouds,
we could not hide.

Crisp are the crinkles,
crackling ‘neath power lines.
Everything is weeping brown.
The path I was on is no more
a path, as I walk over mounds,
What is beneath
what is beneath
my tired feet?
I do not know
where I stepped off
and I do not care

I walk with the hunted;
walking into the sun,
so bright,
but for the clouds.
I feel myself crunch
and look up.
Nothing is falling
until I look down.

written on 11/08/2014 by: Matt Kane