Dangerous Ground

Trusting Faithful,
we walk across
the backs of monsters,
fire-breathing,
sulfur-churning beasts –
smiling for the camera,
licking sweets,
our tongues wagging,
when at any moment
the whole earth could shift,
send unexpected flames
that char any hope we have
of seeing the valley where,
they tell me,
the wolves mate for life.

If you love this poem, then you’ll love EVIDENCE OF FLOSSING: WHAT WE LEAVE BEHIND.


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