A man with binoculars
fixed a shape in the field
and we stopped and saw
the albino buck browsing
in the oats—white dash
on a page of green,
flick of a blade
cutting paint to canvas.
It dipped its head
and green effaced the white,
bled onto the absence that
the buck was—animal erasure.
Head up again, its sugar legs
pricked the turf, pink
antler prongs brushed at flies.
Here in a field was the imagined world
made visible—a mythical beast
filling its rumen with clover
until all at once it startled,
flagged its bright tail—
auf Wiedersehen, surrender—
and leapt away—
a white tooth
in the closing mouth of the woods.
Source: Poetry (March 2009).
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This poem originally appeared in the March 2009 issue of Poetry magazine
Mark Wunderlich’s collections of poetry include The Anchorage (1999), winner of the Lambda Literary Award, and Voluntary Servitude (2004). As J.D. McClatchy said of Wunderlich’s debut, “The Anchorage bravely takes up the raw mess of desire and pain, the cold ache of longing and loss, and in sleek and searing poems exposes the way we live now to the larger powers of the racing heart and the radiant imagination.” Wunderlich’s . . .
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