claws

nice frame.
I'm next to
a hawk, digging
before the great
saltwater altar of theast.
we are old friends,
he and i -- brothers
with bloodless beaks &
inky talons.
he screams out angry
at the sky. i answer -- open
mouthed and smiling.

he
glazes over wings
coating whitecaps -- carefully.
the sun retreats from
the drunken earth; bloody.
black.blue.beaten.

my shameful claws
grow tired. sinking
sand swallowing my legs.
wings
of dirt,
chains of sky.

to be that free.

"Let me take
your picture. This is going
to look fabulous." she
hides behind
the lens and I am still
thinking of my
solitary brother above.

but now
I am reminded of
her summer sweat &
boyish daggers cast
in the fading light of autumn.
softly
her voice echoes; buried
within a haunted hallway
of memory.
her glorious dark claws
slashing silently
at my throat.