150

I ran down out of
            The woods into the rut
                        Of the track and went
Down it to the field
            And got over the fence
                        And the cows at the end
Had their faces in the
            Earth of the stream and
                        Turned to me passing on
Dripping and I crashed
            Through the stream and
                        The bank and far fence
Cutting myself and I
            Fell in the deep grass
                        And my wounds and I
Breathed in the hot grass.
            My skin was wet and red.
                        I destroyed heads of
Dandelion and they swung
            Into the air and I sat
                        As they made the dark line
Of the wood, and some
            Were in my mouth like
                        White cotton. I breathed,
Slower. As I walked back
            The dark was coming into
                        The cold of the stream and
The lights were aching down
            Far away from the road
                        And it was still and tired.