Misstep

they’re back this year

vermilion shoots
burst from the soil

we didn’t burn deep enough
when we cleared the land
native roots are tough

*

strange feathers

beneath each hen
the orb that killed her

desperate for protein
we never heard
them hatch

*

some women

their bellies swelling
crave native fruits

ordinary foods
are ashes in their mouths
their sunken eyes

*

corner crack

the tiniest vine
finds a way

two days with our lasers
recovered the structure
at least

*

forests do the wave

as if flea bitten 
the planet twitches

each epicenter 
closer than the last
something come

*

blood warm rain

we watch the heavens
bruise & darken

this thunder a language
our brains lack
a tongue for

*

eye-corner motion

I almost shot
my brother today

we’re all jumpy since
the mayor disappeared
her unfired gun 

*

tree shadows at dusk

the ones we never planted
not-trees / not-shadows

closer each evening
when we opaque our windows
some have faces

*

this world is not ours

native microbes 
make moves we can’t counter

growths appear
on fabric on skin
things fall apart

*

parasites in flight

ancestral vessel
savaged salvaged savior

native to nowhere
wishing on next star
kinder


David C. Kopaska-Merkel & Ann K. Schwader