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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3674 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention A Prisoner of Wings steve Williams Note: a buzzard will line a nest with greenery to signal its occupation. Scavenger 1. Mesquite bare, winged fruit tumbles to carrion, plunges leather head into ribbed cavern. Mesquite tangle, sprig of pine tumbles from his beak into the nest of bones. Fabric and Feathers. My memories of each woman lie in burlap and quilted palms, finely pored: decomposing blisters of billowing silk perched on floes of skin, migrated too far south. Recall a songful wren who became a crow, just a crow: another snatched thrashing insects from between passing cars: this wood duck laid broken eggs in warm down: a mourning dove who cried of ghosts, an owl who loved silence. Scavenger 2. A buzzard rides on my shoulder, his beak poised over my hair, feathers startle at my step, talons dig. An iridescent plume falls from his tail, rests in my hot sand footprint, undead marker of this passage beyond my animal skin. |
