Moved the jackrabbit
from the road, laid her under
a bush. Land of little
shade, we do what we can.
One sport is crying while driving.
Another the daffodil light.
All the mornings I’ve found you,
I’m just eating a sandwich with Sarah,
when the wind picks up, and her hair
crucial, planet. Night running off
with itself. Away
from your star. So soft
is the fur
of the currently—