Hawk hooked herald
of first light forms
the river beneath broad wings
watches me walk
Dangerous dawn dragoon
first shadows the bridge
to flush a fat blunder
wild of its dreams
Wings wung white beneath
clouds beneath
bones to crack in claws beneath
the heart that beats too hard
Locked lids lead
against trajectories turning back
straight away against
the grain of time
Our perfect pregnant pause
perhaps worth circling
(the swift on a beeline interrupts
intent to nag the hawk along)
That thin thankless gift of flight
he might have spoke
while I spilled out
the grave-bound space of surfaces
I walked on beneath
earthbound at least
content with bricks in sour stride
upset (at least) I could not fly
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