Nova Peak Pärry

she followed because he fed her and that makes him

MINE

long miles that spill out into short nights bitter with lackluster sleep. tired all the time. hungry all the time.

pakasqa. pakasqa. pakasqa. is that you?

* * *

he moves under the clinical white of a low moon. she watches

as he travels out and out

and then stops as a solitary figure dotting a lonesome plain. a burst of salt-smelling wind tells her they are not alone and so she lopes towards him at a chimp-like rush, searching for the intrusion that lingers somewhere on the slope below.