Hiking Before the Night Shift

Gravel shifts beneath my heel, and I fall
into a bruise that will bloom in the morning.
 
A cactus pushes its thumb against the root
of a cottonwood. We steal time 
 
to watch the shadows widen, cholla 
stretching its fingers into the night. 
 
You sleep in the car ride home,
crumb of a rusted leaf on your shoulder.

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