Riding next to you
on the Chicago Skyway Toll Bridge
I see a blinking Dodge
with the whole front fender missing—the whole thing.
It makes me think about those kids
born with jelly-chins,
and then about this fawn I found on
the side of the road when I was nineteen.
She looked all wire and bone
and was mewing—
half her downy jaw lay in a parking lot
or a side street or a belly somewhere.
All the muscle of her tongue stuck dry and
naked in the wind,
mewing.