R u m m y   P a r k

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
Unpleasant.
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.