Speaking with a Snowy Owl

Doesn’t surprise me. Offensive? No, not even startling. Wings are dense. Your feathers soothe the rain, brush away cinders, ice crystals. Sheen on the water. Miraculous bronze glow. It covers your heart. Intensification of color when you stretch towards the light. Wings are dense. Remove the sting, the memory of axe and fire. Nothing else to be done. Doesn’t surprise me. Offensive? Yes, when the sun burns out its core and the ice floes shed their strength. Yes, offensive, but wings are dense and your feathers soothe the brain, bush away embers, bring back amber, bring back blue. Haze around the core. No fog. No moisture. Saturation of anticipation. You can’t read the night sky. It isn’t there anymore. It isn’t even possible.

Andrea Moorhead



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