Pownal, Vermont
We think we can capture a creature
by naming it. Long-distance lover.
Partner. Mountain lion. Lion Daddy.
Daddy. American lion.
Forty names in this language alone.
Dating, but only on FaceTime.
In this language alone. Open. Poly.
Open but not actually poly. Just open.
Puma, cougar, lynx. Why try to love
wildly again? California, California.
Like most things, this animal
has little to do with you,
but like most things it turns
into you, slinking through
the milky darkness of my mind. I stay
locked in its amber eye—Sweetie, Babygirl.
Pretty Thing. Tiny flower. Just open.
When it’s gone into hiding, you start calling
me by my mother-given name. Strange
syllables dropped from your mouth.
Not petals. Just gray stones. Just open.
Stay friends. Growl and tremble.
They say that someone shot the last one,
but people swear they’ve spotted them—
prowling for scents and pawing at visions.
Painter. Red tiger. Mountain screamer.
