- — 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.
Cameron Witbeck is a 24-year-old writer from Michigan. When he isn’t working as an associate poetry editor for Passages North literary magazine or studying in the MFA program at Northern Michigan University, he enjoys hunting and milling about in the woods. His work has appeared, or is forthcoming, in Rosebud, Cream City Review, Controlled Burn, Strongverse, and others. 
