Without a Map
by Nikki Harlin
i only know who
i am in the stairwell, in the basement. there—
the hand tearing through the floor boards
gropes for an ankle
in the corner i tell myself
that is a portrait
when it is clear
i’ve passed before
footprints appear behind the sound of circling hooves
in a dry field I cannot find
the door out. a scare crow leans in the wind, its hair a fire
i started to see in the stalking dark.
Nikki Harlin is an MFA student at Cal State San Bernardino where she writes poetry and is a staff editor for Ghost Town Lit Mag.