Crepuscular Animals

I live in the country of corn / rows & rows of it flying by: / moments not worth remembering /

every image settling in my mind like dust / I will miss this soon / but right now I do not know

how / I watch the colors blur together into beige / through the driver’s-side window / white barn,

red barn, brown barn / roadside garden of garbage for unsuspecting deer / cigarette butt, cirrus

cloud, chiming clock / black matted fur in the middle of the road / baby raccoon an ink spot on

the pavement / young, fresh, new / it had no idea what was coming / I heard raccoons are only

out during broad daylight if they’re sick / but maybe he just wanted to know / what sun felt like /

last night one followed me home / his silhouette monstrous in the streetlamp glow / sometimes I

think / maybe we’re all a little bit crepuscular / only getting out of bed / to catch faint whispers of

dawn or dusk / & because / the most beautiful moments are beginnings / & endings / & rolling

hills: the only hourglass I can bear / to obey

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Em Townsend

Em Townsend (they/she) is a queer writer, student, and the author of growing forwards / growing backwards (Bottlecap Press, 2023). Their work is published in Chestnut Review, Shō Poetry Journal, West Trade Review, Frozen Sea, Unbroken Journal, Rough Cut Press, and elsewhere