To Get to the Other Side
The pigeon scurries on matchstick legs,
head pushed forward to help it to run faster,
to get out of the street and away from the car.
It has forgotten about the wings on its shoulders.
Six deer lined up on the riverbank,
a garland, a paper chain, headed up the grass
for the road under the snow sifting down.
The spider showers with me.
She has learned that the steam makes the ceiling,
her floor, slick. She lowers herself a millimeter,
her body the harness.
The parking lot is full of evergreens.
A seagull guards the entrance.
What a weird forest
we are inspired to throw together.