by Elissa Gordon
The jack rabbit’s skull is held level
by special joints that absorb
the jarring and bounding
at the zigzag speed of 40 miles an hour,
Its predator,
the golden eagle,
wheels overhead,
massive wings of hollow bones, light,
the whole apparatus protected
by a tiny wishbone that diffuses
the shock of motion.
Jack rabbit doubles back,
foils the eagle’s swoop,
the bird falters,
overshoots his mark,
camouflage coat buys the rabbit
a few seconds in the grasses
to catch its breath, undetectable.
I always save the wishbone.
I always wish, even if I am alone.
I hold both sides, try to be equitable.
If you could choose a super power,
Would you rather fly or be invisible?
I never think twice, Fly.
Wishbone was included in South Mountain Poets biennial anthology Offline in 2010. Published here with permission.
