Donkey was the only one she’d found
in the puzzle called “Pets.” The circle, wavy
across the left side, the word struck
through with a confident lead line.
She never found Cat curled near the top,
or unchameleoned Lizard dead
center, backward Guinea Pig hid.
Hard to find energy to chase Canary.
I wonder if she closed her eyes
against the book. I see, now,
the next puzzle is “In the Air”—
devoid of marks, pristine, so clean.
Unfound Aroma, Drizzle, and Dust.
I think of Wind, and what it does
to a cotton dress. How, in a Haze,
her voice made me so glad and hopeless.
The Butterfly, so light and whole
and clear, quickly taken from the air.
2 Free Back Issues
Receive updates on our latest ventures, exclusive essays from our editors, discount offers, and more, direct to your email.