Holding It All In

Running through the woods
Seemed dangerous, no one chasing now,
Just sounds of trees whipping faces,
Clouds nudging trees’ spires,
Edging moonlight’s wisps.

Terror can do that to the mind,
A sudden thought, a moment’s memory
And all tumbles over cliffs, the nerves
Frantic with escape.

But Monday’s night football was over,
Touchdowns in ether blanched white
Against invisible uprights, while daggers
Of yellow pierced suburban highways
Searching for clues.

Most of us foundered now, out of breath,
Dreams of cemeteries opened wide,
And fools blinked phone cameras into
Deep-green secrets.