dense as a widow's heart.
is an un-bird,
cursed nonetheless with a damned restlessness.
through the bottom of the nest,
it takes the whole thing down,
end over disintegrating end
like the Creation Wheel gone graveyard.
be born into dirt, burrow and grow blinder.
Mother was stoic
and tossed a rose without a tear,
but went home with a hawk in her hair.
She tore at it,
banging her head and rocking to get rid of it,
sitting alone in the hallway to the kitchen, screeching.
this stone is like all the rest,
inside her, a clutch, cracking, then demanding everything--
helpless boiling monsters
with their black holes open, perversely alive, impossible to satisfy.
for Play it Again at Real Toads. I used Ella's visualization prompt. I saw a hawk with its wings spread.