There is a ghost in the woods, haunting the fringes, rustling the leaves, leaving sorrel heart breadcrumbs. Marked by the scent of touch-me-nots rotting under the chicken coop and wilted clover crowns tied too big, it whispers warnings that the woods will take your pulse, bury you under the moss, replace your veins with roots. It calls for you to step over the barrier between city and tree, nature and nurture, real and imagined, life and death. It begs you to come, come, come play, dance with the ghost in the woods.

There is a girl in the woods                                                    There is a boy in the woods

dressed in grass-stained skirts                                             itchweed bumping his arms

and with weed-flowers wilting in her hair.        and mosquitos crushed into his palms.

She opens her mouth                              His knees and elbows are scraped over scars.

and dandelion seed wishes fly out.               He climbs trees to find treasure buried in                                                                                                                                 the clouds

Stars trapped in stones clatter in her pockets,            and catch sunlight in grass nets

ready to anchor her when the spring floods come        Knives stolen from a forgotten                                                                                                                                      kitchen

and crush wild blackberries into purple                         rust under the moss, saved for                                                                                                                   throwing practice.

that stains her fingertips and lips.                                                    Sorrel and mud stain                                                                                                                                 his breath.                                             

She dances in patches of wild violets                                            He catches toads and                                                                                                                           garter snakes                                           

and melts them on her tongue.                                            and makes them his friends.

She builds cages from brambles                                             He asks to be your friend,

so no one can rip her free.                                      stick-thin arms opened for embrace.

She bleeds like tears                                                     He chases you through the trees,

through thorn-made tears.                                                   ripping his skin on brambles                                                                                                                              and sending

She runs deeper when you try to catch her,                      touch-me-not pods bursting                                                                                                                           like grenades.

slipping through your grasping hands                          He screams for you to hear him,

like rainwater collected in acorn caps.                      rattling the rusted dog kennel you                                                                                                                           locked him in.

You want to hold her close                                              He yells his name like it’s yours,

and braid her hair                                                   but you can’t hear him over your fear.

and tell her she can cry instead of laugh                         You tell him he can’t come out

if she wants.                                                                   because he doesn’t fit your body                                                                                                                                   anymore.

She tells you that she only runs                                He takes a kitchen knife, cuts your                                                                                                                           hair, and says,

because you ran from her first.                                                              See? Now you fit.