Kestrel Ridge

by Ann Douglas


Skier Matt

Naturally, God is in charge.
Sometimes, however, when gravity
gets out of hand,
by which I mean, possessive
like a map
privileging itself—
doesn’t it seem right
that God should intervene.
Stopping time
gives the earth like a mother
of children, a lift.

When everything loses
on par, and with the warehouse cleared,

there are no contingencies,
no necessary exits.

For awhile we are dead.

Allow me to add, this is His
understanding, not mine,
nor the quails’
from the sound of them.
To plant our faith in the rush—

then have it reversed
against itself
and back to Him—

as from streaking horsetails to heaven

either way—
though we’ve worked this hard—
we still have no traction.

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