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which makes what sense on a pizza night’s
dark prowl of cars slewed and stopped
by an escaped deer’s graceful trot, tangle
of headlights, tango of engines, deer, hot
fuel, fuelled blood, strange antlers
how they are calm: picture disdain
high-held against the hungry monies
moaning in the pockets
sweep of the wild eye (panic could be building)
the abated klaxons, something being paid for
how will you tell of this later? the cold night
trapped in a swirl vapour, breath,
exhausts, animal, drivers, cars, each
an introduced and the low mountain
years before cut through to make this crash
perhaps you will speak of tariffs
as the boundaries we pay
for having crossed does only
the tilted mind write rush poetry?
as if whatever lives must utter itself swiftly
from where it stands on thixotropic clay
everywhere feet dying in mud
everywhere hands
in help or pushing them under,
the accident eyes, the shine of smashed glass
which inform us we are here, in heightened
air, our nebulae faces blue and orbital
in a condition of being planetary
the particular makers of an atmosphere