Poetry |

“A Moose Breathes Onto My Palm”

A Moose Breathes Onto My Palm

 

In the painting, a rabbit

is riding a moose

or perhaps a reindeer. I’ve never been good

at identifying large mammals. Most of the known

universe eludes me. The rabbit grasps

its reins confidently. Sometimes I’m good

at grasping, sometimes at letting go.

The sky’s blue suggests

dusk, and the moose’s — let’s say

it’s a moose — darker blue pelt, midnight

or Prussian, suggests reverie. The rabbit is as white

as a real rabbit. In real life

my skin is tan or pink

or something like cream, depending. I would like

someone to imagine me

not riding but leading

a calm animal in a blue painting.

I would like someone to imagine me

as excited as this rabbit,

as joyful. I would like to hold my hand out,

feel the moose exhale

onto my fingertips in quick snuffling snorts,

feel its thick mammalian tongue

nuzzle corn from my palm, blue corn

from Arizona or New Mexico,

my warm cerulean palm.

Contributor
Lynn Domina

 Lynn Domina is the author of three collections of poetry, Inland Sea, Framed in Silence, and Corporal Works. Her recent work appears or is forthcoming in The Los Angeles Review, The Glacier, Moon City Review, Lake Effect, and publications. She teaches at Northern Michigan University.

Posted in Poetry

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