When You Wake Up in the Forest

When you wake up

In the forest

The last tree

You remember passing

Is in front of you

The tree is bent

It’s carved into

It’s still tall

But it doesn’t present itself

The trees where you grew up

Were majestic

They announced themselves

And they welcomed

Enchantment

This tree is damaged

It’s unexceptional

It’s going to be around

For hundreds of years

But only because

It’s nature

Is immortal

Not for any reason

That matters

You pick yourself up

And start the walk home

Several miles to home

And along the way

There’s a gas station

Where you can grab

A can of Diet Coke

And some candy

To boost your blood sugar

You’ve woken up

In the forest before

But this is the first time

You didn’t panic

Upon realizing

That no, you are not in bed

At home

Safe

What is safe anyway?

Nothing you’ve done lately

Has been
Safe

At the bar last night

You begged to be released

From the arms of a man

Who reminded you

Of Kris Kristofferson

But in a joking way

In a way that let him know

He could hold on tighter

You thought

If he held you tight enough

You’d wake up in his bed

Or your bed

Next to him

But not in the forest

He took you in his car

And drove you around

To a bunch of different

All-night

Fast food

Hamburger joints

And you ate turkey chili fries

And peanut butter milkshakes

And there’s an hour

Alongside a cliff

Where you think

That something is happening

That isn’t happening

You see the wedding ring

You have one just like it

Although yours

Should have been sold

Years ago

He holds you tight

In the front seat

And then tells you

He needs to get home

You know that means

He’ll drop you off

You’ll walk inside

You’ll see the photo
On the kitchen table

That you’ve had there

For weeks

And you’ll go outside

And you’ll walk

And you won’t stop

Walking

When you wake up

In the forest

Your clothes will be covered in dirt

But you won’t feel dirty

Because something about fresh air

And earth

Keep you feeling connected

In a way

That can’t be anything

But clean

The first few trees

You wake up in front of

Seem welcoming

They seem to say

That you’re a princess

And you’re here

Because princesses

Always wind up

In enchanted forests

Running from those

Who would harm them

You’re fine

You’re all right

You’re right where you’re

Supposed

To be

When you get home

You know

You’re already late

And there’s no point

Trying to make it

To another class

That you’ll half-heartedly teach

While still mostly drunk

You email your TA

And tell her the layout

Of today’s lecture

But she already knows the drill

And she’ll cover for you

Because she needs a rec letter from you

If she wants to get into

The PhD program she’s been eyeing

Her ambition makes you choke

You’re repulsed by it

You both loathe her

And are endlessly grateful

For her enabling

The shower doesn’t hit

As hard as it used to

When you and Jacob

First bought the house

Things slow down

They splinter

They don’t break

But they break down

The refrigerator can’t seem

To keep the food cold

The dishwasher

Can’t seem to get the dishes clean

There’s never any room

In any of the drawers
Despite how much you threw out

When Jacob told you

He needed

To take the job in Buffalo

The bed is better

Than a patch of dirt

In a forest

A few miles from your house

Where you tried to go camping

But only if you like

Comfort

Only if you don’t want to wake up

Feeling like you shouldn’t have

Only if the tattoo you got

Didn’t satisfy

Whatever urge you had

To be unpredictable

Only if the cocaine you tried

With one of your students

One night

At a local bar

Where you bumped into him

And he told you

That you looked pretty

Failed to get you fired

And that means

You have to keep messing up

Until you degrade

The cement

That makes up your person

The person

You’ve worked

So hard to be

That you’d now

Like to destroy

Because you can no longer

Carry around

The cement

When you wake up in the forest

You feet are bare

Your t-shirt is ripped

And you’re not sure

How it is

You weren’t eaten

By a bear

But then you remember

That in all the nights

You’ve come here

And passed out

You’ve never seen

A single animal

Maybe you’re the animal

Maybe you’d eat the bear

What is exposure?
Should you die of it?
Could you die of it?
Do you want to die?

No

Not like this

You just want

To feel as confused

As your life

Looks to you

When you lay in bed

And stare up at it

Telling its story

Along the cracks

In the ceiling

The cracks

That will never be covered

The cracks

That mean something

Pedestrian

In a story

That your students

Would write

The cracks

That aren’t stars

When stars are available

Provided you aren’t scared

Of a night chill

And the crack of brush

Under your feet

As you find an open square

To lay down in

In front of a tree

That seemed

Much friendlier

Before you went to see

Night is supposed

To give you fear

But night?

You know the night

It’s the morning

You can’t negotiate with

When you wake up

In the forest

You can’t find your phone

And you know

You took it with you

But you don’t know why

The laptop will do

For emailing the TA
And looking at the news

And writing a message

To your husband

That you’ll never send

But you sit at your desk

A cup of water-dashed vodka

To your right

And coffee to your left

There’s something you could write

But the dirt under your fingernails

Won’t allow you to type

You’re not allowed

To do much of anything

These days

But at least

You don’t have

To make

Your bed