Rebecca Nelson
She walks in the soft damp,
early dusk. The city hushes
to purple and pigeons,
empty park benches
still warm where
bodies pressed together.
The duckpond catches moon
and feathers, everything
but her coat, almost
wing-like with shadow.
Streets twist up
hills lined with homes,
red-tiled roofs.
She does not fit
into the existing
narrative. We do
not see her run,
prayer-like in the waning light:
just the slick, pink dust
stirred up from the road,
or the unsettled column of
leaves rising. We do not
have a word for her yet,
not for the way she loves.
Perhaps something long and sweet,
rustling, furtive as aspen
leaves in the wind
planted miles from where
they’re supposed to be.
We are not ready for the song
she whispers to herself,
but we need and remember it
as wood and creaking light.
In the plaza, she’s among us.
Water films over her tracks.
Fog webs through trees.
She watches the river and shouts music.
Rebecca Nelson is pursuing a PhD in ecology at the University of California Davis. She researches plant and pollinator conservation. Her poetry has appeared in Deep Wild Journal, Common Ground Review, Kelp Journal, and the Great Lakes Review. Her first collection of poems, Walking the Arroyo is available on Kindle. When she’s not chasing bumblebees or writing, she enjoys watching birds.
