we ring and run
plastic bags sagging on the steps
a dung heap of lost sleep
a ditched pile of not regret
we fold fire and wedge it in
between our ribs
between car parts and busted batteries
fumes flaming and mouths foaming
we run to the light
plant notes for un-grown vines
explode daisies into crowds of spitting faces
we kiss their gnarled mouths
cradle their tangled feet
lick the blood from their chins
run before they can know our name
a giver with no face
death too close to wait to play
we have but this
this playground
cracked, rusted and jammed with nails
we press our naked bodies to it’s warmth
life pulsing in our thumbs
we hitch a ride
WE RING AND RUN
Written by Jennifer Parkhill
Photo by Jennifer Parkhill (Vintage Holga)