Clomp

It was hard to sleep at the edge of the forest.
What did you think you were hearing,

head against her chest—a woman in
loose boots wading through paper—

clomp, rustle—her heart?—
the night was full of it,

then Dawn came through the door, or
didn’t, which is why you woke—

the neighbour’s irrigation pump, the
tent, still dark, whispering something …