Listen, one day the river will become ugly.
The fish will lose their purse full of comets. The deer slice open
their beautiful, rounded tongues.
Your mate will go out to fish
and never return.
There will be arguments swimming in your mouth,
always.
Women walking by themselves
at night trying not to swallow the moon.
Listen. You must do what you must.
Eat where the food grows.
Drink when it rains.
There are forests humming,
on the other side of fear,
poisoned mushrooms in the meadows of love.
If a hunter comes, pretend to be ugly.
If a photographer wants to take your picture, smile
and pretend to be
daylight.
Land on the leaves.
Land on the stamen of little yellow flowers.
Do not break your wings when you come in for landing.
The mouth is beautiful
only so many hours of the day.
Keep it closed, and look up.
Do not repeat the tragedy of the stars.
–
Tresha Faye Haefner’s poetry appears or is forthcoming in several journals and magazines, most notably Blood Lotus, The Cincinnati Review, Hunger Mountain, Pirene’s Fountain, Poet Lore, Prairie Schooner, Radar, Rattle, and TinderBox. Her work has garnered several accolades, including the 2011 Robert and Adele Schiff Poetry Prize.