by Jennifer Morales
An animal scared silent,
rabbit atremble in the morning grass,
belly fur slick to the ground,
the ground warming
to the hands of sun and light.
A salt lick,
discovered in a day-to-day field,
crusted dirt track,
sedge and tick bite, blue swallowtail heat.
You just must trust it, mouth watering.
Cells have no language for this, no reason,
just a hot need to set the tongue
to the block.
Breathing your denim,
pressing the empty cloth to the mouth,
stroking the place,
the place where the thumb,
kissing the leg
of the table
where the knee,
replaying the song,
the song that sounds like want,
like warming ground and shadow,
cresting the horizon.
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