Somewhere

Somewhere there is a tree bending in a wet gale, under a sky strewn with racing clouds and the bad light of a lunar eclipse. Somewhere a road limns halves of the horizon, rising like a hawk's trajectory until it disappears in the shimmering heat. Somewhere things that look like men squat in caves and clack their yellow teeth at the sun.

Somewhere a spider clamps its bony arms around a moth; the fluttering of the moth slows to a beat and is picked up by the fluttering glow in far storm clouds.

Somewhere an oak tree has grown around a fist of bones. Clutched in the fist is a tiny wooden doll, and painted on the doll's white face are two dots and the thin line of a mouth.

Somewhere on a marshy beach, under the singing air, the sand dimples, cracks, and falls in on itself to reveal a smoking hole that smells like wet wool.

Sometimes, when you're not looking, the stars twitch into new positions, just for a moment. Bats and night frogs blink and go about their business.

Somewhere a wagon filled with rugs lumbers to a stop on the side of a rock-strewn road and under a sky that is so blue it would make your teeth ache. A crow is released into the air. A rabbit is released across the plain. And after a moment, a gloved fist emerges from the swaying wool curtains. Gripping the worn leather with yellow, lizardlike feet and hooked talons is a hooded falcon. The hood is released and the bird climbs into the bright sky, watching both crow and rabbit.

It dives.