Hil Hoover
a mystery for no one to solve
we were the children who ran wild in the woods
a collection of raggedy creatures, bird’s-nest hair,
some shoeless or coatless, or dressed in hand-me-downs
in all the wrong sizes, or nice clothes we’d long since
destroyed refusing to set ourselves apart from our peers,
and these were the truths that we knew: if it was dinnertime, then it was your momma calling you,
and you better run as fast as you could, because being late
was not an option, but if you heard her voice at any other time,
then it was not your momma, it was something else, and
you do not pay it mind, do not answer that voice, do not
follow that path or you will become a mystery no one will solve
if it was the howl of a coyote, that was a familiar kind of song,
keep your dog under control, make sure the rabbits and the
chickens and whatever else you’re backyard-farming are put
up, and you’ll be fine, and even if by some chance you run
into a bold one that someone’s been feeding or otherwise
made dangerous, what’s the worst it could do? eat you?
if you’re one of those kids who doesn’t go home at night,
who decided it was safer to stay out here in the woods,
for one reason or another, who found a cave behind a
waterfall, or under a set of bushes, or perhaps built a
treehouse, or annexed an abandoned shack, if you’re
camping, or hiding, or playing truth-or-dare, well…
beware the distant howls in the autumn breeze,
the ones that start at the roots of trees, harry their way
up trunks, release through the branches, scream through
the forest canopy, make their way toward you until they
turn into the crunch of leaves just outside your shelter,
the ones that are not coyotes or wolves, or any creature
of this earth, not your momma at her most impatient,
not the grasping hands you came here hiding from,
not the darkness of human evil you thought you
could escape, something older than that, and
you can stop your ears and hope to survive the night
or you can step outside and scream into the howling,
answer back those voices you were always told
to ignore, become a mystery for no one to solve
if you hear your missing friend’s voice in the woods
pray that they’ve become the most glorious
and beautiful monster
but also run