the woods behind the house (a story)

We walk on the path behind the house
with its wide, wide,
W I D E
windows, all open, like eyes.
Duck and don’t meet them.
Don’t let them see you seeing.
(There are hungry shadows.)
(Their teeth are sharper than ours.)
We walk on the path behind the house
with my hand in yours,
with your hand in mine,
and the wide wide windows
stare after us as we go.
(Once they were us.)
(Sometimes they look at remember.)
Into the woods we go,
the deep, deep,
D E E P
dark and quiet woods behind the house,
which smells like dirt and things that are living
(and things that are dead).
(There are skeletons buried here.)
(Do not go looking for them.)
Into the woods with go,
with leaves in our hair,
with leaves under our feet,
and the deep deep dark
watches us as we go.
(They have eaten us before.)
(Our blood is in their teeth.)
I will take the knife and put it in your hand
and its sharp, sharp,
S H A R P
edge gleams like bright silver.
It has a home inside of me,
like once it was inside of you.
(Once I thought we could leave.)
(But leaving is only temporary.)

Return what was once mine to me.
And we will start once more
on the path behind the house.

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