Hawk in the Chickens

Life can be like that:
Swoop down and
bite your tiny head off
Devour your flock most vulnerable,
then turn with dangerous grace and
fly away -
satiated, elegant
in carnivorous privilege.

Dream Bears

A bear is coming.
I slam the door behind me,
but all my weight against
this flimsy portal
will not contain her intention.
My bare hands try to hide the
marks of her terrible claws
I envision shredded flesh
and know I cannot hold her back for
long.

Then, I am at work and
the bear is still there.
I can see she has been marked
as dangerous,
but she sleeps obligingly
contained by secure doors and
glass

You have come to stay for awhile,
so I warn you about my beast
Eye to eye,
you will talk to her
you have a way with bears.
g.o.

The Co-Respondent

In her living-room, my mother plans coffee,
And is confused because
This new woman has my name.
How will we know, she says,
Which of you is which?
I leave the room then;
Perhaps the hospital nursery switched our
ankle bands
(Or her bifocals need adjustment).

My son is asked
To aid in serving, where this woman sits
In my usual chair.
The room is filthy.

They talk:
The Mission Circle President,
With her alcoholic boyfriend
The drug dealer who deserted me,
And this woman, who came uninvited
To my mother's house
(Though knowing that,
Tonight, I would be here).

A criminal court judge is dying.
"He let me off," says she, in his defense.
My son will not kiss me.
I lock my mother's door behind me
And vomit on her step.