Blackberry Night Trail
Running the fox hunted night trail,
Rapid wind enveloped her foot fall,
Tripping her slippery as salamanders,
the earth coming up icebox cold on her chest.
Her white shirt stained as brown brassiere.
She labored in blackberry briars,
the ruby-like globes splashing her cheekbones.
Cicada songs buzzing inside her throbbing head.
Rising, she held close her newly swollen womb
assuring herself the embryo will still form.
KW 6/30/23