After my family was torn apart I lived

in a vector of death

with nobody to share the shadow

I needed a red-tailed hawk

Like never before I needed

to be seen from far To see myself from

beyond the visible spectrum in keen binoculars

whose yellow could look long and deep

into my dying heat Before it cooled

I needed to wear her

the wide wings the copper tail

the capped head and beak

I wanted her talons her monotony of field

and fence post

And I wanted what felt the most real

the holding the pelt

of the dying animal

not too long

the refusing anymore ever again

to be the torn apart and dying one—I craved

to feel her swallowing

small bodies whole

and grinding them into particles

before untangling feathers

and leaving land

for air again To fly as savage

and graceful angel

To rise above To see the way

forward To see the larger heat even

at great distance To clutch the cold moments

of this life To swallow and to gain