Allan Rae

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Welcome to my online portfolio, home to what I feel constitutes my best literary nonfiction, poetry, flash fiction, & photography, with links to my published work, as well as the occasional editorial or research update.

The Space Between Brown And Grey

It is snowing softly when
I drop you off a bit past 5 am. 
You offer coffee, not persisting
when I decline. Neither of us
warns against it, so I am back
on the road. My silent awareness
of being ill prepared to balance
slivers of dark and dawn proves
accurate, when in a flash, 
she appears.

Screech of brakes.

Swerve right.

Over-correct left.

Eyes close, bracing for an impact
that is not to occur.

A final lurch and the car stops inches
away.

The doe barely shudders.

Her massive chest heaving faster
than my count, its hair thick and
coarse, somewhere between brown
and gray I think, for no apparent reason. 
Then, for a moment nothing moves and
there is no sound; only the animal’s
breath on the night air, indistinguishable
from falling snow.

Both of us remain silent, still, each
seeming to take a measured appraisal
of the other while on this road we’ve
come to randomly inhabit.

Together.

Like a far from imperfect, yet somehow
equitable balance, as if the natural laws
governing expected domesticity
softened slightly.

The softening however, proves finite and
I think I see her eyelids quiver, when a
burst of light from below and behind breaks
the moment, and in less than a second she
is gone, leaping airborne, enveloped by cloak
and darkness of the treeline. The car passes, 
and in the first seconds of a pre dawn blue I
realize it is morning.

Aided by the amp of caffeine, I stay alert for
the drive home. Feeling oddly deflated, yet
strangely alone, I catch myself more than
once gazing at the picture in the rear-view
mirror. Of snow falling soft on the cloak of
a pine green tree-line.

The Neccessary Tension

On James Baldwin And Letting Go Of Whiteness