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
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.