I abandon my assignment.
I will not follow instructions,
but sit impassively with the
pine trees listening to a distant
chainsaw and a dog barking questions.
My eyes trace the curves
of the southeastern hillsides,
remembering the fire and
studying the shape of the burn.
I will not return at the appointed hour.
I walk along the edge of
the mountain’s granite apron
to the skull of a bobcat, where
I busy myself collecting its teeth,
fitting them carefully into each socket.
At sunset I arrive in the circle
and find that my sisters have also
brought teeth and stories of bones.