by Adel Clifton

Men aren’t always safe.

We write it into their hands,

tell them “you scare me”.

“you are a pine needle”.

If you tell a needle it is a tree

Does its small sapling grow branches that cut?

Is my fear of dark forests

for young women with knifebacks and pinktongues

unwarranted?

The night comes and my fear blooms full:

The sap tastes funny tonight.

don’t let the girls get the moonshine

Too many boxes and numbers

I don’t think I could take another waterlogged phone call.

If she puts her hands in the water is it surefire that she’ll

Leave with eel stings?

My Friend, thank you for being a realist.

I want you to run through birch trees wearing

pink frills

but I fear we’ve woven violence too far into our men’s

wood hearts.

Don’t go into that dark night

Make another moon shine

let me be your mother

And for the love of god don’t get bitten

Cause tree stings don’t heal quickly.