For territorial animals

For territorial animals:

Do you wanna have some fun? you ask 
while brushing out your hair with teasel heads. 
Berry cheeks, you say Let’s kiss out in the cold 
among the dead red apples.
So off we go 
like the tail end of something 
in midafternoon when the fluid of night 
has finally set a perfect skin. 
O—you are perfect in the fragile sun!
We run—hair in the trees 
hair in our hands 
heads together.
The horizon is hopeless but
O—I love 
the dead season 
fluid of summer set into bare branches & perfect 
sketchbook sky.
Airfare you say if only 
but I don’t want to get away.
I want to dig my hair from your bathroom drain & 
get to know you better. 
To sit beneath a weird wild apple tree 
among the antsy fruit & like you said 
we’ll kiss
our crowns of teasel tangling.

Are you having fun? you ask 
low river in the distance glunking 
hopeless horizon 
famous for its event hiding 
rising as we go deeper in. 
Night is arriving.
Should we flee?
Its fluid will put away the final hardy flowers 
& remove all obstacles from our path.

xo

Mara

Photo by marine Dumay