The Elk
Naked I step out among you
but the land is only land.
Whistlers in the thicket
the traveler sets his bags
down
has turned into the
night
and stammered.
They wear on their backs
as fleas.
Like death to watch
were the storm infinite
and how the houses cold
the sun new,
the elk
live long, remember;
like summer,
taking off the hats.
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