Rock Hopping
she was leaping surface to surface
over a rabid sea
you said
there’s no time to put your shoes on
come with me
you led her through the bush
up twisting wallaby trails
and howled against a tree trunk
when she stepped in glass
she cracked all her teeth
and dug her fingers in layers
of dirt and bark and leaves
you took her feet in your lap
and pushed the glass in, saying
I love you
(I’m sorry but)
this isn’t my fault
where is my distress?
I left three severed toes
at the roots of a Eucalyptus
now my grave is lichen
and my skin is mottled grey
wrapped in the waxy green
of stripped vines with sharp edges
hanging from her roof
she plants violets
in her window to signal birds
he carried her home
so she made him
a thank-you cup
of tea
tracing blood on the linoleum
balancing on seven toes
he said
I love you, this wasn’t my fault
she said
I know
I dreamt I broke my granny’s ring
I tried to fix it with tweezers
do you think I’ll ever run again?
and as her gums turn white
you said
as long as I love you
you are always running,
right?
the wallaby trails split open
into a great black road
cutting spirals down the mountains’ back
you take the corners too fast
her body leaves the back seat
and flickers in the windscreen
her voice loops through the radio static:
I love you
I love you, and
nothing’s your fault
I am crowned with skewers and moss
flying over a rabid city
holding all her teeth in my lap
she falls asleep with my hand on her chest
we do not say I love you
we only rest.