I built a steep retreat,

Heart-centered in the city

Whose ruins peered through

Pine and eucalyptus.

I ran to it with thorns clawing my shins,

With poison oak edging

Ragged trails.

I kicked up dusty masks

That bound my throat

Into choked packets,

Made my eyes quiver, lungs heave.

Climb.

Run.

Instinct boxed in broken context. Lost.

I only muse it now.

I gauge its decorations.