Paola Bruni

Wildlife Overpass

Driving south on highway 93, asphalt 
cuts a slim ribbon through the Canadian Rockies, 
my lover and I are a lone vehicle road-tripping 
through the brink of morning when, in the distance,
an overpass—no, an arc of forest suspended 
over two tunnels like a mirage. 

It’s a floating passage, wide berth, protective arm 
lush with aspen green as adolescence, 
sagebrush, and wild flowers. I imagine grizzlies 
gnash berries and rabbits forage in the brush, a fox mates 
in the curved womb of concrete. No life ended 
by propulsion or human error. 

Instead, the carcass of a squirrel is laid still 
by a bobcat. A muskrat, picked clean by a bald eagle. 
Remains entering the earth as intended. I want
an overpass of my own—a span of earth that hovers
above the usual hazards, green breath 
in my nostrils, tips of fern crusted on my lips, 
dirt under my nails, a good death.

Paola Bruni is originally from San Francisco and now lives in Aptos, California by the sea. She began writing poetry in 2016 after a long marketing career. Her work has earned four Pushcart nominations and has been published in myriad journals and anthologies including: Ploughshares, The Southern Review, Five Points Journal, Rattle, Adroit, SWWIM, Poet Lore and elsewhere. She is the winner of the Morton Marcus Poetry Prize and the Muriel Craft Bailey Poetry Prize.