My friend, you don’t have to
live tangled in your leash.

Follow me. Past the sidewalk,
to a world where we uncurl
our tongues, drink our fill.
Where we run loose, where
fences rot before they’re made.
Where bare necks accept
the yellow pant of the sun
and jaws hang open, slack.
Instead of meat, we lick
our power from the air.

 

 


 

K.E. Kimball