The deer steps slow like a creature
new to legs. I know that kind of care,
watch as she delicately lifts and settles
each stem of herself. I could pour
into her. Those stars on her back
are the freckles that rise – the dipper,
the bear – on my shoulder. And now,
see, as she stops by the lick of salt
I left at the fence: a slice of sea for her.
How she curls her tongue around
my world as I hold my breath in hers.
Cheryl Pearson lives in Manchester. Her poems have appeared in publications including The Guardian, Southword, Under The Radar, The High Window, and Poetry NorthWest. Her first full poetry collection, “Oysterlight”, was published by Pindrop Press in March 2017.