Deer Magic

By Denise Low

Phantasms:

they appear

by stealth

and disappear.

They shift into vision –

glimpse of antlers,

dark tails,

and then gone,

the air empty.

In the wetlands

we find a print

crimped in mud,

deep,

weighted by a rack

I believe in them:

mottled bodies

not quite formed

in mist, then

gone

before rain clouds

drop over us all.

– Denise Low lives in Lawrence.