Steven Heighton
Collision
Away in the eyefar
nightrise over the sapwood, and one likes
under hooves the heatfeel after sun flees, heat stays on this
smooth to the hoof hardpan, part trail
part saltlick now as snowlast moults back
into the sapwood
to yard and rot
and one sees moonrise mounding
over a groundswell, but too soon and swifter
like never the moon one knows, no moon at all,
two moons fawned, both small, too hot, they
come with a growling and
hold one fast, so chafing for flight
but what, what, what, what
wondering--
and one can't move and can't although one
knows from backdays, eared and glimpsed
through sapwood budwood cracklewood bonewood
flashes of this same Wolfing
now upon one, still
stalls the hooves on the saltlick and the eyebright
creature squeals afraid?--and one somehow
uphoofed in a bound not chosen high as if to flee with no
trying, no feeling, fallen flankflat, fawnlike
eyes above in the eyefar closing small
with the world
and now from the stopped thing
comes what its cub? legged up on its hinds,
kneels low to touch, but in that awful
touch, no feel no fear to feel
no at all--