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.