Published for World Suicide Prevention Day.

Rebekah Miron

You were in the woods, and
had I been home, I would have
known how to find you. How
to pick the moss from your hair,
and make fun of the moon always
following us there, following you.

Little beast with a hook through your cheek.

Even after they took you away, scruffy
and white, the fight folded small in your
chest, I confess I still went looking for you.
I told the wild things you’d gone home.

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