Open Throat

by Henry Hoke

every person sitting and walking has hands too and I see all their hands and I know what their hands can do and what their hands would do and the violence waiting behind every motion

on quiet midnights back in the caves I could almost imagine that all the people were gone canyons cleared of their footsteps and voices and cars the long deaths standing still trees expanding and their green swallowing the buildings and returning the original smells returning what’s needed I could see myself leaving the park and walking through an empty ellay slow and safe with all the other animals back to the deep forest and the forever water and the sun setting