DEER & GHOST OF DEER
Carolyn Guinzio
There are two voices in the leaves arguing
in the leaves a dark voice
a quiet voice in the leaves like a hoof
stomping bent in the leaves straight
bent straight in the leaves that sound
when a bird in the leaves lifts its weightless
feet from the leaves not weightless but nearly
erasing the border between body and leaf
a crashing in the leaves from mere ounces
and sycamores reach horns bleached by
a roadside horns fallen in the fallen leaves
shoulder to the shoulder of the November road
hooves in the leaves the weak feet of vultures
in the leaves the sound from the bodies
and leaf-colored clothes standing in the leaves
the smell of the wet, dead leaves under the leaves
and what is the soul, what stays in the leaves
or what leaves? When it’s quiet it will be safe
to leave what I was in the leaves
Poems by Carolyn Guinzio have appeared in The New Yorker, Agni, Phoebe, Harvard Review, Bomb, Boston Review and many other journals, including E·ratio #18. Her sixth book is How Much Of What Falls Will Be Left When It Gets To The Ground? (Tolsun, 2018). Among her previous books are Spoke & Dark (Red Hen, 2012) and Quarry (Parlor, 2008).
