opposite the safeways on highway 7 by Makenna Dykstra

stands an elk in the purple dusk

his antlers look like twin rivers

splintering into tributaries and tributaries

and tributaries whose waters carry

the dreams of their forebearers back

to their birthplace in the sky

reverse order gravity until my socks

dust the roof and i suddenly realize that

the world looks its most beautiful

when viewed upside down or perhaps

on the reflection of water which is to say

inversion is a medium for truths we cannot put words to

life’s most profound realizations come with

the acceptance of fear in its most mundane forms

for example cockroaches or cockroaches

are scared of me or i am scared of cockroaches

on a bad day, i’m paint on the walls

the haziest shade of apathy in eggshell

on a good day i am utterly bewildered

unsure which leg of the labyrinth

holds my home or my exit but content

to watch the stars as they pass seasons

the elk must be afraid of nothing

but i am afraid of him and he looks up at me now

and i can’t tell what shade of brown

his eyes are but we both commiserate

in the knowledge that life wobbles so precariously

it makes you cry or laugh or maybe scream

ice sublimates to gas and i to thought

and terror

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Makenna Dykstra (she/her) is currently a graduate student pursuing an M.A. in English Literature at Tulane University in New Orleans. She can often be found on Twitter @makdykstra, planning her next bagel outing, or inundating everyone in her immediate surroundings with jellyfish fun facts.