Snyder Park

the geese look frozen on Buck Creek tonight and
their pearled feather tails and bobbing
white necks glide through the light pollution like a swirling
clogged drain.

I always wanted to see the flocks on the coastline like
my sister, the birds that have made it to the south for the winter
and achieved migration

but don’t worry about me if you’re worried about me

I can see the waves in my own eyes through the lamp residue, I’ve
always wanted you to see that I’ve made it to the beach and
out of the winter solstice that stole the sun

my flaming sunburst hair
and my hands locked in my lap
notice the geese

you just need to notice my eyes and know
that the migration out of this hazed mellow dark is idle

crashing shoreline is right behind my eyes
and in the tails of the geese,
frozen on the dark creek.

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