Antlers

by Natalie Schafer

What’s in the woods dear?

What hides in the pines?

What glints off the trees? Just the fog then?

Just haze

Do the forest fires just sit downwind?

Do they hint at what is to come?

What lives here, dear?

Amongst the rock and soil and sand?

Does it grow horns? Should it?

Is it just off the path? Can you see it at all?

What is the meaning of a mountain if you are made of air?

What are antlers if you walk on two legs?

What are legs if your voice is what carries you?

What if even your toes are an illusion?

Even your ankles and your knees?

Would you still believe that I am real?

Would you still spill sunlight through your teeth for me?

Or would you leave me in the landslide with all the logic and wildflowers?

With all the wishes we’ve shot or blown to the wind

Would you remember my name? The date?

Would you forgive me my shadow? Would you let them cross the bridge?

Would you leave the moon in daylight?

Would you leave me on the trail? Let me catch my breath?

Or would you let the columbine sing me all the way home?