[a survival guide]
I’m learning to collect poisonous
plants to help preserve
what little food I have
left. In my small hollow
a few inches of edible leaves
insects and their dried
bodies brittle wing-bright.
I’ve been here all winter
my skin so pale its luminescence
lights the underground path.
Now darkness means throat, a trap-
door to surrender. I
still catch myself looking
at my wrist. I make orange
flags from an old blanket.
I leave them hanging
along the rock-walls
as I push further past.