The Secret Lives of Maps
       

On occasion, the animals
curl into themselves, their skins,
and we—not knowing why—
put our faces to the wind
and sniff. We believe,
we carry ourselves
as believers and our progress
is high and our foreheads
are high, our voices tell us
we are good and the winds
give back to our hopes
the scent of rewards that rose
and stacked themselves
to the bases of clouds,
as if the clouds themselves were
the sails of our dreams.

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Copyright © 2013 Yvette Christiansë All rights reserved
from The Common
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission