This started out as a tanka and became a cinquain, a related form.

monarch

trains heading south

into the trackless air

dew on the engines that push them

onward

in an untelevised
feat of winter olympics
the gray squirrel's
split-second run
into a back flip

after so many rains
exposed and vulnerable
the roots
of a sycamore
grasping the twilight

I am like
the birds that fly
into windows
I mistake them
for doors that will open

I refuse to fall asleep
no matter what they give me
in the operating room
the nurse with the magic marker asks,
"Which eye are we doing today?"

confusion
about where to go
after the tornado sirens
our entire class ends up
in the men's restroom