indifferent
your stare your
stand
on the body of death
rat or rabbit
clumped darkness
nothing to rescue, as if
I’d match my courage to your claws
I’ve known your hover
settled, you have no song
stirred breast feathers, stilled wings
grounded here as I am
eating a dull meal
left to clear the remains
of what you brought down
in the pecking order of prey and necessity
what will I tear with my bare hands
when there is everything to rage about
Florence Weinberger is the author of four published collections of poetry, the most recent Sacred Graffiti, (Tebot Bach) and Ghost Tattoo, forthcoming from Tebot Bach. Four times nominated for a Pushcart Prize, her poetry has appeared in a number of literary magazines, including The Comstock Review, Antietam Review, Nimrod, Poetry East, Solo, Rattle, Baltimore Review, Calyx, Miramar, The River Styx, Another Chicago Magazine, North American Review, and The Los Angeles Review. Her poems have also been published in many anthologies. She served as a judge for the PEN Center USA Literary Contest in 2012.
Photographer’s Note: I admire birds, large birds, especially birds of prey. This poem captures the power of the hawk.