2021-09-21T18:23:35-07:00July 16th, 2012|Nature|

When there are no more eagles

You all squint and look up at me
like baby birds
and I am tempted
to drop a fish head
because I know this would excite you
but fish heads
aren’t easy to come by these days
so instead I fly and fly
high above you.

You forget this about me,
I can see the eyelash on his cheek,
her hangnail,
the pink flesh inside
that little one’s

But it’s pens
I hunt for,
searching your beach bags
for the ones who will write me down.

For you I fly and fly,
drawing my way
into your memory
so you will carry me
into a future
when there are no more fish heads
and you squat
on your wisp
of dry earth.

You will tell your story
to the children of your children,
a tale of the great bird
they called the eagle
and how magnificent
I was.

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