The contrite hunter

free verse

Photo by Lukas Neasi on Unsplash

I went in the woods

to gather mushrooms

because

I did not know how to

stay close to you.

I left you

on the couch,

not able to speak,

a dollop of skin

and flushed eyes.

Now I am looking at my

straw basket taking

its solid handle:

a spike slipped in my fingertip and there is blood.

I suck it.

It is iron.

I am coming back.

My route is seeded with

nice and poisoned mushrooms.

A reverse Tom Thumb,

not needing to find his way back home

because in this silence

of nature and trees

I ran away

on my own

and I lost you.