Watch Out for Icicles
is what I say when you leave the house.
What I really mean is, please don’t die.
Not that you ever would on purpose,
or so I hope. I can’t keep you here
if you decide to go. All I can do is try
to convince you there is something
worth seeing ahead of where we are,
that the best is not behind us, and
I need your hand in mine to get there.
If you can’t do it for you, do it for us.
Pretend to be a puma too tired to hunt
but too afraid her children will go hungry
to not throw herself onto the heaving back
of a guanaco twice her size and just as tired
and just as committed to keep pushing,
even with a puma gnashing and clawing
its body to shreds. You can be the predator
or prey, but remember both keep going.
The difference is the fiercest of the two
does it for those it loves not mere survival.
I know you’re far from a puma. I’m no child,
but please imagine me starving and know
you are the only one who can feed me.
Deron Eckert
Deron Eckert is a Pushcart-nominated poet and writer who lives in Lexington, Kentucky. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Appalachian Review, Atlanta Review, Wild Roof Journal, Blue Mountain Review, Rattle, Stanchion, The Fourth River, and elsewhere. He can be found on Instagram at @deroneckert.