on a mountain pass
i watch her body light
up like a bunsen burner

whose heat. color pulse at
the edges like a new mexico sun

like a red-faced fox
slinking through the brush
at mid-day

Yukon

collecting collecting collecting.

yet i cannot recall
when did she become this

satellite
projecting signal
filling-in dark recesses
of dry, paper maps

while we slept? how
did she travel so far north

along the fence line
undetected

in our hemisphere?

a fur
of such great quality

bounding

up
and out

and out

10/28/2011

Author's Note: of lisa's and beth's

Posted on 10/29/2011
Copyright © 2025 Christina Butcher