Tanka by Cindy Tebo

with the moon

against the darkness

I start out small

in just a sliver

of canoe

lost streets

that twist without reason

except to hold

the shadows

of other people's stories

in the anatomy

of a gray feather

barely a spine--

is that all it takes

to travel so lightly

this morning the river

carries the news

before I can write it down

three deer are swimming

towards me

buried in hands

a face tired

of holding itself up

I know not if this church

is for prayer or sorrow