The Grass I Still Haven't Cut
And won’t, before I move into town. I am finding animals
every day in there, ones that were lost to the long lawns
of outbuildings, the fields of development going slow.
Now – a bunny
(I love him so I call him bunny) emerging
from the thick fur of green behind the mailbox.
The delicate cat, plunging like a porpoise
in those hearty stems, tips like peanut shells.
Her eyes in that moment
before fireworks go out, teeth
warming with the mineral taste of a mouse
caught in the burnpile.
Does she check me for fear or stealing?
Or hunt or predator
or alien or wishing?
Or just, “hello animal.”
Amanda currently lives in Tucson, Arizona.