facing the edge
I pull to the side of the road
mainly out of curiosity
how am I to move
the injured marmot
to the side of the road
I don’t get out of the car
instead I look up at the sky
its eyes burning like death
I look away
as if losing a staring contest
with the sun
a vehicle drives by
and then another and another
a whole host of them
like well-equipped refugees
I take my cue from the marmot
[which has seemed to move on]
and proceed
against the grain
may two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
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