Minerva at dusk flies


Carl is the last owl to glow
in the night
he is almost nothing
a godward here ho

stars from their sockets fall
under his watch at dusk
fall into sky forms
the horror of dawning down

he is child of the dark
tree stranded on the stand
cross feather at the base
where souls fell dead

he too is on this tree
hinged or nailed a cross
and cries about nothing
waist of a limb on limb




DA works as editor of Codhill Press.