You fill my throat with feathers,
hush the night like owls—
hiss of hunter between the ears.
You count down the days to that brutal miracle,
anniversary of my son’s birth—
a hot mass I can see with my eyes closed.
You make me fast until my skin cracks,
burn my tongue with mezcal—
taste of ash and revelation.
Click here to read Beth Suter's compositional note.
Image: Snowy Owl Flying Up by Eric Kilby, licensed under CC 2.0.
Beth Suter is the author of the chapbook Snake and Eggs (Finishing Line Press, 2022). A Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominee, her poems have appeared in Colorado Review, New American Writing, Barrow Street, DMQ Review, Birmingham Poetry Review, and others. Learn more at: bethsuter.com
Latest posts by Beth Suter (see all)
- Anxious Angels - November 5, 2024