To move across the landscape like a lost
          springbok. A bounding, arcing comma pure
          and certain. She circles in a falling scrim
          of flake and snow, through fractalled water
          without weight. So, wild mind plows paths
          through the thick of it and thought gambols
          across the page like steady fonts in bloom.
          Into the open field the black dog inserts herself.
          She means to enrage all that white. She says:
          cover your cark and care as I bury my bone.
          See how I frolic forward, defiling
          the scene. In the absence of my dark
          nature, winter would never cease.

LYNN WAGNER is the author of No Blues This Raucous Song, which won the 2009 Slapering Hol Chapbook competition. Her poems appear or are forthcoming in Shenandoah, subtropics, West Branch and others.