Flamenco at the Thirsty Bear. Jim Gunshinan

About Jim Gunshinan

 • The Artificial Heart
 • Heroes
 • Geography Lessons
 • Blue Cornflowers
 • Living by Water
 • Upon This Rock
 • The Man Dad Brought
    Home from the War
 • Physics
 • Black and White
 • Not the Mom We Were
    Used To
 • Nothing Sacred
 • Spring
 • Transformation
 • Please Straighten That Up
 • Up from Depression
 • What the Body Wants
 • Compassion
 • Commute
 • Kiss Me
 • Starter Castles
 • Flamenco at the Thirsty
• A Nature Poem
 • Portrait of a Woman from
   the Gardens of Egypt in the
   First Century



A Nature Poem

I was visited by a young stag
with thick felt on his new antlers.
He came outside my bedroom window
in Berkeley to eat the rotting plums

fallen over the fence from my neighbors’ yard.
As he moved around the house, I followed
down the hallway with the framed pictures
on the wall, through the bathroom with two doors

my office and into the guest bedroom
where I saw him again through the window.
We went back and forth like that, from
bedroom to bedroom, until he had his fill.

I wonder why he came from Tilden Park
down the Berkeley hills, among all those houses
gardens, recycling bins, sidewalks
and curving roads to my house

to eat my fallen plums
and make me spin like a Sufi dancer?
Is he a deer who longs
for sweetness? Or is he like

those elephants who migrate for days and days
to get drunk off the overripe
fruit of the Marula tree
mango’s cousin?

  © Jim Gunshinan, 2013


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