By MAT CLOUSER
At the Great Cliffs of Mt. Horrid we were strong, tunneling through the woods,
peeping at the nesting falcons,
using the toilet at the Sunrise Shelter,
stopping at the top of No Name Ridge to turn back home. Creepers to be ripped from the garden,
mulch to be hoisted and spread amidst
salvia, foxglove, bee balm, and mint.
Maybe let’s have a black raspberry or two
before we cruise the waterfalls to fall in love again (again), eating Village Creemes and onion rings? It’s like a paradise and death everywhere—
I love it so much.
The giant wooden gorillas,
the bat hovering over my head last night,
the sculpted giraffe above the trees,
and the bear carvings beneath.
Your solitary fox in the meadow,
which I would not turn back to see.
The doe and the fawns in the corn.
Even when everything is perfect
we need our secret pleasures.
