The Hike

The Hike

What is the operative word 

for what occurs when the stick 

across the trail proves less twig

than tail? There’s one too, I’m sure, 

for how it feels to look back at the inches

between where your footfall fell

and Hell, but it’s shrouded in leaf litter. 

They slither off, the ones we're

after, before we can identify 

the exact tilt of their heads or the pattern 

etched on their backs, leaving us 

with nothing more than the gift 

of engorged veins and a whittled eye 

as we pick our way down the path 

again, surrounded, surely, and alive.