Hawkeye by John Mungiello

HAWKEYE

Their wings spread, stretched, confident—

Catching kisses from a breath blown

By lips invisible. 

To them, every day is an anniversary,

The hawk, its own God, above us

Surveying its property, with 

Knived vision choosing

Which one of us to swoop up. 

Against its prey,

The only prejudice is

The limp in my right leg. 

Their judgement based on necessity only, 

Unlike the angels who fly through—above—

Underneath—careless, were they?

Yes.

Leave me to the hawk instead

I prefer their judgment, a little less bitter. 

Let them take me up

Their talons in

Open up lung—open up

I-don’t-mind-the-pain-the-pain-I-don’t-mind

Because, maybe then,

Just before the end,

Just once

I could feel

Just once

What it would be like

To be above this virus,

Loved.

My first word.