poetry,oh poetry how gay art thou.

Owl

like an idle carcass the owl waits
for skulls, deathlike- with ‘Man’ tattooed in his armpit
under the wing too heavy to fly.
he stretches- and an ecstasy tightens over his skin
and dissolves, distilling inertia thickened
with fish mucus and algae.

sensing his belly like a butterfly, sadness in the glory of its fronds
unfurls a gesture to the unseemly huge shadow
of the owl-
that twitches across the floor.

cowering under leaves, it grabs the tip of its heart- nerve
and crashes.

he is in hopeless feathers.