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Meeting My Eagle
 
Polar magnets, our feel for each other is
strongest at the point of turning away.
I stand in the doorway, you sit inside –
switch channels on the television.
 
There is a metal taste in my mouth,
the chew of tight cheeks, the texture
lifting me to the high balcony of a dream.
Looking over desert hills, into white sky.
 
I remember an eagle gliding into land,
he perched behind me, shared my view.
The breeze in his feathers and my fine hair.
Afraid of the snap in his nature – I tensed.
 
He, tasted my threat and thought of fight and
attacked: putting in his beak and claws.
We writhed, two branches on a sprung wind.
I saw into his eyes – he meant to blind me.
 
I am an animal ten times his size - broke him,
plucked him, snapped his chicken bones.
Leaving him downy, four stumped,
no longer a bird.
 
I am awake now, so my eagle stays inside,
contained within the bone house of my skull.
Quiet, except our tension makes him stir,
all our confusion of metal and air.
 
I feel his head, butt behind my nose.
In the hallway mirror I see his eyes –
spoked copper wheels, stilled in amber,
holding the room, despite his ruined form.
 

 

 

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