Osprey
By Jack Cade
Wed, 15 Sep 2004
- 907 reads
Imperial fisherman, aloft, proud
above
the burgeoning crowd
of copse and country,
endowed
with chalk-bold
wings and talons many,
shining over
Londonderry
framed by the sun, your blazing
lord.
Then! Sudden as a damning
word!
You fall, like Tewodros's
sword,
upon the bolt-like
silver ford
to claim your slippery
reward.
Plunging bloodily
toward
its form, your own a shifting
chord,
you open up, a fan,
assured
of fodder, cut and cleaved and
clawed.
The water flinches - but is held
down
by thousands of pins of light. Her
gown
now settles, and her lover's
gone.
Gone. Like King Leontes' frown.
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