The circle cannot keep her. She leaps 

meridians. Shoulders wind. Runs

thirty miles with her kind.

Together they'll divide the runts. 

Ford a river. 

Net the herd with their terrible snouts. 

Encircle hoof-strikes, panic.

 

Mid-summer.

Collar of fresh fox scat. A young tundra hare, snared 

in her glacial vision. Ransacks the jugular.

She follows cairns of stone, bone. 

Musky with oxen hide. Tang of saxifrage,

bearberry, tundra rose. At dawn,

a mountain range—

broad forked antlers, in her sky eyes.