Elaina Edwards

A black grackle sails overhead——            slams——into the window across from us

                                                      ——a thud——         I make myself ——watch         in silence——

the obsidian body——twitches             on grey gravel——I watch it             get up again——

                                                                   ——attempt to grab                            the wind——

——under its wings but collapsed——             ——Again                 and        Again——it pushed

it’s body up——only to fall——like someone clipped the string

                                                                                                                                    it was strung on

                                                                You looked at me——

                                                                                              with fox eyes darting——back and forth:
                                                            from me——to the bird——back to me: I watched you——

grab a rock into your palms——            and your arms——             pinned——

                       the black bird——into the cement——I didn’t wince. No——

——I didn’t pull—— your arm back either——              ——just thought about

                        the carnage——of the universe——         It’s silly——

      the way it sends you messages sometimes——like it wanted me

                 ——to hear                      ——the cracking——

                              of a skull——               that snap——

                                                                                                               ——to know it was over.

Elaina Edwards (she/her) is a poet from the Texas Hill Country. She has her MFA from Texas State University where she also teaches. She is an ecofeminist poet that loves to dabble in the supernatural. When not reading or writing, she watches way too much X files with her partner, Stephen.

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