Revision: A Walk in the Woods

Sometimes I post utter garbage to this blog. The poem I posted on Sunday was a particularly embarassing piece of garbage. But rather than remove the post that offends me, I have rewritten it into a slightly less obnoxious form:

A Walk in the Woods

This miniature version of man
who has taken my storyline
and spliced it with chapters
from a woman I love takes me
for an adventure.

We are in danger: there may be
pirates in these woods, or wolves:
we beat through brambles and scuffle
dry leaves, their poisons mulching
the air we breathe. Toadstools
dust boots with spores, a trail
for bloohounds to sneeze across
as they hunt the wrongly accused.

My foot breaks the ribs
of a squirrel, the space
where its eyes once rested
accusing me; the remains
of its guts dripping grubs
to the ground, seeking escape
from exposure. They piston
their flesh into the earth
eager to straitjacket
their juices, reorder
white flesh into flies.

And my lover's eyes
borrowed by my son
watch me grimace, shake
my boot: "Mum says
you want to be cremated,
like Nana." I nod
and smile, wordless.
"You smile funny," he says,
"when you step in shit!"

Sometimes I look at you,
my son, stunned by the way
you write your own book;
the way you rewrite mine
without even bothering
to ask me.