Maureen Seaton

Toy Poodle Attacked by Fake Owl

Sometimes I am an owl giving birth
to the sorrowful air around another owl.

Blood & darkness, prey & preyed upon.
Which reminds me (on nights like this)

of a mouse suffocated in the gut of an owl
as the owl wakes, vomiting bones, &

the forest leans in to listen to her song
of panorama & digestion. Fake owls,

on the other hand, fail to utter a sound.