I was thinking about the deer
When the fence went up. I made
Sure to leave a narrow passage
For the bucks and my grasses
Drew them in from the badlands.
When we put food out for animals
We shouldn’t be surprised if they show up
To eat. They break their necks in feeders,
But it’s what we like best of all:
The shaking, the manipulating of cages
As they learn to steal their food.
If I wrote a poem in which I am the wick
And you are the match there’d be a shadow
Striking you once, striking you twice,
And just when it seems you won’t light
You flame up, lighting the wick,
Feeding the shadow, a rush of heat.
Tasha Cotter's first full-length collection of poetry, Some Churches, will be released in December with Gold Wake Press. You can find her online at www.tashacotter.com.
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