22 January 2009 | Vol. 8, No. 4

Geese don't collide, they said, it's impossible

by ROBIN LEE JORDAN

Above the Willamette

two groups of geese collided.

I wanted a war in the sky.

I wanted to see the weak

slip through the air like dead

birds to the tempestuous water,

not that pathetic confusion—

the stupid shapes they make.

            —

A girl watching

wanted what I did.

She said so

on her way to leave.

            —

And we all thought of the body

that could have been

beneath the pile of leaves

my feet strew about,

of how I would trip over it

had it been there.

            —

Down the path

a raccoon looked

at us briefly then

walked aimlessly past,

the back of his leg

a surprising red.