By Michelle Raskey

Traversing the path through your crests and curves
Stepping farther into your mystic land,
Watched by ancient ghosts.
At each crunch of my boot I shed
Layers of accumulated fabrics, growing smaller:
First mule deer, now coyote, next badger –
Until I disrobe completely, a snake.
Rusty red blood carries me and I
Slither across your rocks and truth.
My sacred pilgrimage complete I open my eyes,
Wet wings unfold,
I take flight and hunt.