Sanctuary
each patch of bark
the flank of a beast
which had lived before winchesters:
auroch and bison
stampeding up a loblolly
in a vast single herd.
i hugged tight
their revelrous snort and scent,
felt the pulse of their hooves
across my sternum,
my tears not enough
to loose their bellowing wanderlust,
consigned to the trunk of a pine--
exiled from those gone prairies
when peregrine vigor
ran muscled and primal.
this their sanctuary now, the tree,
where no primate of my greedy ilk
can roam.
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