like a gander escaping the winter
that had been shot but not killed
i’m injured in my soul
and i have lost also my company
the troupe perhaps is unaware
that i have fallen on the wayside
with a wing broken and unable
even to flap, to keep me warm
my brokenness benefits none
certainly, not the one who aimed the gun
nor that onlooker who cheered him well
will it, then, be salvific for the goose
and tonight i’m puzzled
floating in a puddle of million questions
whirling in my mind, keeping me awake
and my spirit camped for too long
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