you screamed the fires
out of the pine barrens
& turn the copper water
to blood

the forest cleaning
herself of you

& you yell for her 
to forgive you for
being born the 13th child 

what of numbers
cursed out of frustration

oh he'll be a devil

my father would
check my head for horns
as a joke

laughing as he ruffled
my brown hair & then
i'd go back to
the bathroom mirror
where i learned to
snip them off
with nail clippers

mishap creatures we are

the stormy nights 
of our birth reenacting
the reluctance of
the forest to let us have names 

who here has named themself?

have you learned by now
that they call you
the jersey devil?

have you made other names?
out of the lichens or
the cinnamon fern or 
the asters you kiss when
you feel alone?

i collected buttercups
from the front yard to 
float in mason jars
for my mother when she
came home in the blue station wagon

we killed our midwives
out of fear

my father sealed the chimney  
& fireplace in our kitchen
so that i wouldn't fly
up out of it
like you did 

forked devil tails
unfurl into the roads
that separate us

is it true then
that we were always like this?

devil-hood red in our blood

the Leeds family
with their demons dormant 
in their blood

if you wander alone
long enough in the forest
you will of course
become the other

was it as deliberate for
you as it has been for me?

did you refuse to
swallow your screams?

letting them stretch
bat-winged between cannon fire
between bushes of
goldenrod 

i walked in the pine barrens
only once 
but i felt your life
throbbing
in the waters

you hid your face 
in the branches

hooves on asphalt 
outside my motel room

i saw your red glowing eyes
& you saw mine 

we traded

what do they know of rubies?

i put my finger to
my lips & told you 
to you not scream 

not here

wipe your feet 

this is night is for us

how many highwaymen
have you eaten?