by Jess Walter
*with lines 1-2 by Mark Strand
I romp with joy
in the bookish dark,
and it’s like being lost
in the Ozarks, medium-sized
omnivores padding by, huffing
their concerns to the night air.
The moon is encrypted behind a castle wall
of nimbostratus cloud cover. I want you
here with me, I want you to run
fast so you arrive panting. Upon hearing
your careful footfall, my bare limbs
would unfurl and I would turn
into a thousand daisies, nodding
in the wind.