Wildlife

I can see draughty stars drift

inside my skull.

Roots and boles and boughs and leaves

press at the backs of my eyes.

A spider rambles inside my body and

scuttles out of my mouth.

This suit is an agony.

Black flies from the creek fall into my teacup—

keep one eye on the world, they say.

“Wildlife” is from The Wilderness (W.W. Norton, 2014).