Carrie Green

Migration

 

            —Lake Woodruff National Wildlife Refuge
 

I wanted to linger in another country,
far from the hiss of oxygen through tubes,
from my father's skin mottling like bruised fruit.

To know the ease of wind and water—
white pelicans resting on a lake,
a line of bright wings billowing through fog.

Not these reminders—
a pile of bloody fur, a wake of vultures
blocking the path between ponds.

I couldn't hear my breath.

*

I couldn't hear his breath.

Blocking the path between ponds,
a pile of bloody fur, a wake of vultures.
Not these reminders—

a line of bright wings billowing through fog,
white pelicans resting on a lake.
To know the ease of wind and water—

far from skin mottling like bruised fruit,
from the hiss of oxygen through tubes.
I wanted to linger in another country.