in hazardous country
mackenzie connellee
we tread through a stolen field
where his voice is a weed
warning “don’t wander so far
into stalks of snake grass”  
my feet make puddles of
flat green veins: so they are snakes
and chew paths through dirt
and they are edging our toes
they are saying
around  slip
i am thinking about sharks
which climb my hands
in oceans until i cut off
all sensation except wetness
until i say this is no country  
we have no teeth. he takes
my wrist. if he is the shark
if he is the snake i feel no
vibrations
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