The fire shot up as a soft breeze passed the door
and I smelled fern. Watching the blue flames
the small petal-like teeth that sculpted
the pine log I imagined I wasn’t in Montana
now but dreamed in Fresno in the house
on Sawyer where the gauze curtains blew
and the blue flower’s scent suddenly filled
the bedroom. Ellen was alive just beyond
the window in the garden. Then she stood
by the bed, I hadn’t seen her enter, she was kissing
my cheek by my ear. She nipped me now
on the ear and I opened my eyes. Her dark eyes
looked into my mine, asking, waiting for an answer
a response I couldn’t find. But there weren’t
any words, I didn’t need them, all I had to do
was lift a hand to touch her face or take
her in my arms—The connection snapped
the big doe whirled in the room, sharp hooves
clattering and skidding on the wood floor
and terrified ran into the corner of the stone
fireplace under the elk head, bounced back
and spun again, cornered, staring crazily at me
before she left the ground, leaping through the open
doorway in one long streaming flash. I jumped up
and hurried to shut the door. Then breathing fast
I opened it, listening for the beating of hooves
above the hitting of my heart. I looked into shadow
for eyes reflecting the cabin’s light. I touched
my cheek, my ear where the deer had bitten
me. “Ellen?” Did I say it, or only think it? “Ellen!”
I called, my voice thin and frightened and weak.
No answer. Again the owl hooted, sending a thrill
down my neck. Pine boughs shifted in the breeze
above the black trunks. If I wanted I could take
a step, another, and I’d be running, faster.
I could see the flash of my shirt disappearing
among the trees. I studied the swaying branches
like dark wings. “No coat or gun, he hurried
forever into the cool night, to join the darkened
green world,” a voice whispered at my shoulder.
The doe? Again I felt my ear, checked my
fingers for blood. The skin was unbroken. I stepped
back into the cabin, threw the bolt. I glanced
out the window past my white reflection
and sat in the chair by the fireplace, breathing
quickly, then slower, more calmly as the fire
cracked and I watched the flames flare blue
as the garden’s blue-faced flower whose scent
I tasted the May night I dreamed Ellen
had awakened and returned before I
woke to gauze curtains in the moonlight.
Photo Source: Hannibal’s Animals
