I thought it was a moth
Oversize
Pinned beneath your beak
On the grizzled asphalt
In the burnt morning light.
One jab
Two jabs
And then the dawning frisson
You, Currawong of the mountains
Had speared your little prey.
No moth, but ardent sparrow
Quivering
As your wings alight -
Taken as incestuous prey.
Death, at any time, surprises
But the assassins speed
Startled my workaday ways.
I could do little for it
Yet recollect
As night time fades
The intangible debt that survival entails.
Gar Jones – February 2011
Oversize
Pinned beneath your beak
On the grizzled asphalt
In the burnt morning light.
One jab
Two jabs
And then the dawning frisson
You, Currawong of the mountains
Had speared your little prey.
No moth, but ardent sparrow
Quivering
As your wings alight -
Taken as incestuous prey.
Death, at any time, surprises
But the assassins speed
Startled my workaday ways.
I could do little for it
Yet recollect
As night time fades
The intangible debt that survival entails.
Gar Jones – February 2011