I.

Dark wolves gather
at the edge of the trees.

Dark horses bolt
black against the sky

Along the ridge, growls 
in the thunder-charged air.

Eat you alive. We will
Eat you alive. 

II.

Coiling, uncoiling, the serpent
wakes in her grassy hollow.

Tastes lightning with her flickering tongue.
Flashes, root to the tip of 
the brainstem.

III.

Fight, but you don’t have breath to speak, can’t swallow
raindrops, or berries warm from the garden sun.
You bow your head, press knees 
to the tilting earth. 

Snails, or hiding toads crouched in the soil,
praying protection from the rhubarb leaf shadow.

IV.

There’s no getting hold of myself
Times like these. No taking in hand.

No bootstraps pulled, 
No limb cut bloodied 
from serrated edge to freedom.

V.

Here at the edge of the world,
Long ago buffalo plumbed the depths of the sky.
Frantic caught between the snapping
pursuit, and the wild space. 

Made to jump, they jumped. Dark shapes that
fall among wolf willow, among sage

Hooves beating the thunder-charged air.