Deer Kingdom

 
Bury us where the neighborhood
begins. Under the bridge, my neck
 
arches into something architectural,
you pocket my hip bones, tracing
 
the freckled spots for luck, or maybe
just something alphabetic: the ants
 
swarming meat and sinew, baby fat,
crumbs chewed into the tips of our
 
fingers, divine. Feels wrong to think us
in love with anything godtouched.
 
Nights, we bike up the long road that
spills past our cul de sac. Bare trees and
 
feathered bodies tossing the landscape.
 
Half-wings. Half
​                                  wrist.
 

Fisayo Adeyeye is the current Poetry Editor of Fourteen Hills, a Co-Curator of the VelRo Graduate Reading Series, and he has works published in The Collapsar, The Birds We Piled Loosely, and The Wildness. His first full-length collection, Cradles, is forthcoming from Nomadic Press in 2017.