REBECCA GUYON
ECHOLOCATION
Most days I wear
the hunched run
of an animal, darting
until caught
in net or claw—
and that’s fine.
Trapped, I noise
and flap, send you
pressed air,
let you forge
toward me.
Let you touch me.
Let you cut
through net and claw.
COLD
I like my shadow when I’m in this coat.
I look like a Russian soldier or I’m wearing a dress.
I need to be more friendly. I need to treat Estonians better.