By Carolyn Muchhala

A doe

stands against the blade

of light, ears pricked

and sloe eyes wide.

                                   

I have hollowed

a space between darkness

                                    and the glass.

Wind

stirs apple blossom

petals–the skins

of new moons

my life, a prelude

                                    to this poem: a deer,

                                    moonlight

on grass, the wind.

First published in Amelia, v. 4, no. 4