The Land Bridge

someone tells me that I cannot save this world: deadly Idalia hits Florida,
more of U.s. at risk. drought in Canada causes world pasta prices to soar.
& 5M bees fall off a truck. cannot hold
5M bees in my hands like cherry stems, pits
punctuating the silence of the pre-dawn. something
is hurting here again. hurting is so close. praying into
a sky no one really believes in. some thing is in the sky:
look up! this lifetime of asking&hunting&being is falling
from the sky! & maybe it feels like dying, the sweaty creasing
as the seasons fold into themselves, full of trembling emptiness &
touch. we touch like a crackling god in a vacant church, all gold
lacquer & empty pockets, maybe this should feel like dying.
I know the years pass through the breeze like bees
through a wind chime, the simple sound of their vaulted bodies,
the ghosts that we carry, the blackberry juice I mistook
for blood you drew. the white-tailed deer is the most hunted big-
game species in the United States. the white-tailed are fast learners.
maybe their star-spotted eyes never close in the dark,
maybe the bodies of water become their mothers.
this deer-in-headlights has been felled a thousand times. all my life,
I held onto the hurt because I believed in miracles. I cannot
save this world, but I will recover.