I am in the presence
of several little listens.

Clearing of throat, move
the stiff scorpion lodged
in the boot of mouth
where epiglottis flicks

up and down
like a broken switch.

I cannot ignore
the passage of claw
from stomach
to esophagus.

I have a sound—
bless the cricket and
the kick of red dust
on a warm night.

Big creatures
need corridors
to migrate.

We have a sound,
an inkling, a waiting
for the haggard.

Allie Rigby is a Bay Area poet and educator with roots in the chaparral of southern California. Her poems are published in the 2019 anthology The Kerf Seeks, Manzano Mountain Review, Cholla Needles, Adelaide Literary Magazine, and Open Ceilings.

Her poems flicker between encounters with the wild, the tamed, and the awkward. Her big project right now is The Herd, as featured on her website.

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