Olivia Jacobson

The rooster floats, his feathers

clumped with birch leaves and bark
                on the surface of our pond, neck unfurled
                                                    over the edge of a lily pad. My bare feet
                            slip-slick on water 
           droplets in the grass, the wet clover 
                                                           clings. Clinging
to my knees, I imagine breath
billowing,    blooming into his chest.   Backbone
       beckoning and beamish—      no

clam-eyed envisioning can unfix the ungiving 
stillness of this dead bird. Blued buttercup comb
     curled limp, his beak agape:       There’s no undoing                          
                                                                                         a helpless thing done dying.
The day before, he plucked at my ankles,
                          chased me through the snip-
            snapped straw.

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Olivia Jacobson is a first-year MFA candidate in poetry at Syracuse University. She is the non-fiction editor at Salt Hill Journal and is originally from Sheridan, Indiana. She is also a painter and stained-glass artist.