Homesick

heather and dead deer

I want to go back. Where I left my one sequined shoe

in the crawfish hole, gone forever.

I will eat rhododendrons.

I will fall over Blue Ridge Mountain rock.

Now I’m dreaming.

Or am I awake as a childhood question?

There were pigeons in the rafters where I slept.

I was a runaway with all the boys. I miss their cooing.

Looking up over the farmers’ fields is Fatima’s eye

reflected back, a blue flag of warning.

In the woods of my lost shoe, nothing can find you.

You’re permanently lost.

–The Bride Minaret, University of Akron Press