… your hand
a sea boiling across
the back of my neck,
the forest there collapsing in a wave
and all the animals running
toward the edge to flee
the devastation…
a sea boiling across
the back of my neck,
the forest there collapsing in a wave
and all the animals running
toward the edge to flee
the devastation…
— Sara Eliza Johnson, from “Rapture,” Bone Map: Poems
(via lifeinpoetry)











