She says if I’m not there the sun won’t set.
She holds Bailer wide-eyed, turns, runs.
Bailer trips after, tangling legs.
On the tracks he falls and cracks a tooth.
Forsooth he says. Haystacks doesn’t look back
– as if she could see me, the ghostbunny.

You know me. Suddenly you feel cold.
A mist, fur thick, brushes your cheek.
A chill presses your chest and your heart
skips a beat. That’s my leap.

Haystacks climbs a line of circular bales.
Close as she can get to sunset she runs.
Panting at the edge she looks into my
eyes – at the coal red glow of cinder sky.
She sighs. Hoar frost slithers over her shoes,
snaking up white socks.

Bailer climbs up. He wiggles his tooth,
he finds the nerve. Bbzap. Bailer’s knees lock.
He looses his footing and falls.
Bailer calls out, sandwiched between rows, stuck.

Haystacks doesn’t look. Nappy hair now crowned
with frost, off the edge she steps up into
clouds. We crowd around, leaping, jumping,
the entire warren, misty brume bounding
plains and sky. We fly, we float,
grazing on the ghost of an Ancient Ocean.

– g(c.11)



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