Hidden
by
Holly Day

on hands and knees, I drag the rope behind me, carefully
marking out the perimeter of our camp. A rattlesnake
watches me from the slate gray rocks
silent in the heat, wary of our distance.
the perimeter is secure. inside the rope barricade
we tie down the horses, set up
the ring of rocks for a fire, the sleeping blankets
Check our guns for sand and grit.
the night comes and we stretch out
beneath the millions of stars burning holes in the sky
coyotes skulk in the shadows beyond the fire
the rattler recoils from the rough rope on his scales.
if I woke up tomorrow and found
that we were the last people on earth
that everything beyond this stretch of sand was gone
I wouldn't be surprised, and I don't think I'd mind.
Bio: Holly Day lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota, with her two children, husband, and cat. Her newest nonfiction books are Music Theory for Dummies, Music Composition for Dummies, and Walking Twin Cities. Her poetry and fiction have most recently appeared in Pearl, Tar Wolf
Review, and Jones Ave.
Motivation: Words Building Up...