White duck and white duck
reflection. Umber cow

in a green field. This is
a grey sky, this is a train

window. I’ve created
a spreadsheet for lovely

days not in this room.
You are coming, I tell

myself, an unreliable
narrator. I’m a breeze

in a blue curtain. The trees
will try to stop you, they

will crank up the tinder
to send the egg thief

home. The old story —
I threw down my mirror,

it became a migration.
Lifted the edge

of my battlefield only
to find your uniform’s

stars and the way
the waters kept rising.

A baby animal is good
as any fresh start. Start

with a series of circles.
Triangles to chicks as words

to girls. I never saw you
coming and by then

it was mutiny all over
again. My circumference

spent opening and closing
your voice. The only

thing left to say:
I imagine you happy

just before morning,
feet barely visible and

an unplanted flag wrapped
in elliptical space.