Sixth Finch: my husband was an animal
my husband was an animal
i do not mean a metaphor. i fed him salmon
in september & astonished him with weight.
told him buy land, buy a truck, better yet,
buy nothing. watch birds & sleep
four thousand hours. i said go ride a bicycle
& he left me for the circus, massive
with my patience, all my training, my pies.
the world isn’t worse, the bear i married
once suggested. it’s just more overwhelming.
we have these brains built for berries,
bumping uglies & this, we’d call a life.
we’re not told about catastrophe except
we cannot stop it. before my bear
became a clown i called him once my darling.
led him to the desert where the sandstone
knows my name. he listened for coyotes,
scratched his back well into midnight,
said he saw me in the stars, how they spiral
into every atom, our skin miraculous
as forage fish, trickster leaves & cemeteries,
predators & yes, my enemies. we share
this long-dead light & all these questions
i can’t answer. maybe the lion can.
