This Fugacious World
POETRY
by Susan Johnson
We walk on ice & water & over ice
& water, puddles of unknown depth,
weather a step-mother, hot, cold,
as streams run up & into obstacles
of their own making, berms & barriers
we all just want to cross, wanting
a way out. We watch a red-tailed hawk
swing & soar. She hails from here,
a local like us, working her way
through winter stick by stick, our
neighbor, perched above the freeze
& thaw. We can only imagine such
a life of preening, feathers & thought,
even as another snow bank slips off
its sled. We’re all on edge, wanting
to set one foot down so we can set
down the next. Call it progress. Terra
firma. Hi ho. A bobcat struts ahead,
chit chatting to herself. How do you
maintain balance without a long tail?
we ask. How do you? she responds.
By assuming we’re solid, we tell her.
Really? In this fugacious world?
Susan Johnson received her MFA and PhD from the University of Massachusetts Amherst, where she currently teaches. Her poems have recently been published in Hawai’i Pacific Review, Freshwater, Bluestem, Rhino, and other journals.
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