THE GASP

The whole story held its breath

when the deer struck the earth

with its hoof. The listener 

at the door next door  

wept when a young beauty 

couldn’t wake her lover 

with wailings and musky tears. 

Lonely dieties, lit by lightning, 

no longer remember

a midnight tundra or a bush 

in thought. Turn me into 

a lamp, why don’t you! Steal

my light from the sun.

My forgotten footprints

are a mimicry of invisibility 

that will bluster any moonlit suitor.

Hide time in hidden hibernations,

under animal skin. Gambol with

my grief at the edges 

of adoration. Rupture 

the consequential into new 

constellations. Wriggle metaphor 

into the rhythms of startled frost.

Forget all my nephew’s names,

so that your velvet nuzzle will

cause my plumage to enfold

all the directions 

before catching fire.