Missing Sarah Tonin

Emergency opening

through the side

of an aluminum can

into a forest

of wolves and

dark.

And between six

stars staring

I’m watching hundreds of words

come falling flailing

or pouring

or streaming

from and out

of your eyes.

Trying to induce

your seismic fever to

break

using plastic spoons

and lukewarm water

until the sky cries open

snowing millions of shards

of glass down –

small enough to breach

your grimacing fingertips

undetected;

drinking spiders

‘til dawn.