Bird of Prey

This is where you open eyes. Peer plumate

pitch, hypothesize a little longer 

inside a linen nest, ruminate 

on what is left, human — not a hunger 

already strange.  Even your bones 

are rearranged, hollowed by humility 

with wings to shelter, ferry and atone. 

You will awaken here alone to the 

epiphany you are a bird of prey

who did not always look this way but lost 

its former fairer form.  Feathered, you shall stay,

reformed to rescue those you double crossed

with an innocent face you threw away.

This is where you become a bird of prey. 

Kristin Garth is a Pushcart, Best of the Net & Rhysling nominated sonnet stalker. Her sonnets have stalked journals like Glass, Yes, Five:2:One, Luna Luna and more. She is the author of seventeen books of poetry including Pink Plastic House  (Maverick Duck Press), Crow Carriage (The Hedgehog Poetry Press), Flutter: Southern Gothic Fever Dream (TwistiT Press), The Meadow (APEP Publications) and Golden Ticket forthcoming from Roaring Junior Press.  She is the founder of Pink Plastic House a tiny journal and co-founder of Performance Anxiety, an online poetry reading series. Follow her on Twitter:  (@lolaandjolie) and her website

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