From a hidden tunnel the muskrat
skims across the canal in the rain.
It’s 50 degrees in December—
no ice for him to speed beneath—
so I can see his webbed feet,
the scaly tail that steers like a rudder,
his spiky pelt. Then, like a trick,
he vanishes into the far bank,
muddy home of his own making,
through a sheer door of water.
—
Karen Kovacik is a poet and translator of Polish poetry. She’s the author of Portable City, Metropolis Burning, and Beyond the Velvet Curtain.