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b y   R e b e c c a   L u   K i e r n a n

57.  Collision

A jaguar rises up
From a clean elk carcass.
Only after eating
Does the taste of blood become
He washes his angular face in the stream
Pawing at
The gossamer pinks and blues of fish.
I think of him
When I pass
The bird sanctuary
Where the circus train wrecked.
I think of him,
His calm emerald eyes,
His speechlessness,
His disappointless affection,
His broken bone.
I think of
A thousand star-bellied ghost finches
Moving on.
I think of him,
His jerky
Whip of a walk,
Upturned face, spellbound
At the unreachable sky,
His happiness
Almost more
Than I can endure.

poetry & photos © 2006 Rebecca Lu Kiernan

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