— For Thao

You kick your legs in sleep,
and I think of rabbits.

I whisper run, run, I’ll catch you,
break my teeth with holding.

I recite your scent:
venison, woodsmoke, flour

lilac, ground water,
so I can follow in forests of sleep.

I promise to lock my jaw
and never let go. In bed,

you will pull me closer,
preparing for winter.

Now, your tracks are filling in
with snow, and though I can’t see,

I taste you on the trees.