ON THE MELANISTIC SQUIRREL OUTSIDE MY ROOM (HOSPITAL POEM IV) She makes arcs on the pavement in the staff courtyard, her tail a serpent behind. The detritus in her cheeks evokes dark love, wars as wide as quasars, the theory of fists and blood, palm-sized miracles. She is, you know, a relative of ravens, engorged on the covert. An orderly watches her from a bench, head cocked, Bible-lapped. He has forgotten that they are both below the firmament; for some time he considers the nature of reading anything.
Chelsea Eckert is a creative writing undergraduate at San Jose State University. Her work has appeared in Stoneboat Literary Magazine and Bird’s Thumb, among others.