poems by Rena J. Mosteirin

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Wednesday, April 2, 2014

We Earthquake With It


Tonight the silence of owls spreads over us
like the curse of a memory too allegorical.
Wake me when the heron comes home and I am a different animal.

Lies become fables for the future,
lifting off from the tangible weather, from the time of day,
tonight the silence of owls spreads over us.

The fat owls are curious. The fat owls want to play.
The skinny owls want to eat you. It’s not their fault.
Wake me when the heron comes home and I am a different animal.

A great horned owl has been here.
Her leaving is so heavy we earthquake with it.
Tonight the silence of owls spreads over us

and we pretend my footprints are stars that fell inside-out.
I would like to draw on your feathers with crayons. Wake me when you’re ready,
wake me when the heron comes home and I am a different animal.

God burns away in the sunlight.
It hasn’t been sunny in weeks so everybody’s been seeing God.
Tonight the silence of owls spreads over us,
wake me when the heron comes home and I am a different animal.

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