July 23, 2020

It was soupy hot when the flashing lights took pause outside my window

Peering out, I saw the yellow caution tape stretched across the rain-slick road

Bisecting my property with sirens wailing and radios buzzing

You told me to stay, it could be bad

And I said, if it's bad, I want to see it

I slipped on the clear glitter sandals I should have thrown out years ago

And stepped into the thick night air

The wet gravel crunch under my feet gave way to something feverish and hot

A stuttering dreadlike curiosity

Stern-faced cops apprehended me (Who are you? Ma'am! Stay back!)

I live here, I said, while onlookers joined the cacophony of voices

(She lives here! Leave her alone! She's behind her own fence!)

Heeding demands was never in my nature so I drifted

Over the hill, the hard lines of the semi parked alongside the road caught my eye

I held my breath as I walked up the hill alone to see it

My sandals in the crunchy grass the only thing louder than the blood in my ears

I reached the precipice

Blurred red and blue flashes swirled in front of my vision

Neurons firing and processing, no terms to come to

Shattered glass, dark wetness, a heap under a small white tarp

Twisted metal, camera flashes

Still, silent air

I retreated quickly down the hill and through the front door

Peering through the glass again, I watched a small dark shape materialize on the slope

And I watched her undulate down the hill, bushy tail on high alert

A skunk. (A skunk! Come see!)

You came downstairs in your bare feet and underwear with a heavy sigh

Was it bad?

It was bad, I said. Let's watch her.

You made some commentary on the fragility of the human condition, as I knew you would

We watched her snuffle and root around in the grass blithely and sweetly

The stark contrast between cellular vitality and tragedy just feet away

Was not lost

In the dark blanket of night

A skunk returned to her den

A son did not come home