ANTLERS

Sleeping in the Tipi and cooking over the huge sparking fire, we inhaled its smoke. We gathered bones. We walked bare-chested in the thunderous rain and howled songs to the dark. We put antlers to our heads, in awe of the might they still possessed. It made us feel young: the sun-bleached bones, the fat fungi, and the cold worms between ribcages.

The Ocean clawed at the land for her children back, a loneliness with such depth. We nearly drowned in mud. The salty marshes tried to suck us into our graves. We had to haul one another out, streaked with wet earth and panting: reborn.

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