|Zone Tailed Hawk, by Stolz, Gary M.|
You wind sailing buccaneer
swooper of small mammals
you thought free enterprise
meant open skies and dinner
whenever you were hungry.
Now look at you lying in this box
as though we folded your wings
stroked your rich auburn feathers
flat as your paralyzed eyes.
How did you get there? I don’t
remember the fight—
your strong body, your hooked beak
my broken skin. I don’t remember
clipping your wings.
Your beauty is complex, your cry
alluring, but I can’t touch you
or place the box lid over you
I have sullied your flesh with my mind.
You whisper in my ear
the horror of my ways— taking prisoners
is a learned raiment.
(The Antigonish Review, Volume 39 No. 154, Summer 2008)