our own acrobatics (or, funambulists in our spare time)

that evening
stands
still
the memory thick,
honey coated
fresh

i had just stepped
on a mouse
the neck of which had somehow survived
the snap
trap
before we stepped out
and wondered
at floating strands
of broken webs

i pulled one from my mouth,
stuck to the sweat
at my neck
and we walked silently by three
fully formed
and shining-

the moon wasn't enough to light that night-

shining coolly
in florescence
despite moist and heavy air
i exclaimed something at the second-
"holy shit" i think
and we continued in silence

you might have stepped on something
or you were bitten at your ankle
but you didn't utter a sound,
not a word.
you're so strong.
so stupid.

and when we'd made
our last turn and started
up the hill
still in silence
i turned out
the flashlight as we walked
inside
and turned out our backs.