Heavy Is His Breathing
heaving, heaving
of the owl
heavy is his breathing
the weight of it
is leaning
upon the reddened rail
his eyes glimmering gold
opening wide
can see inside your soul
so close, so warm
so cold
he’s stealing your breath
its freezing
in midair
the owl can’t help
but be aware
of your awful stare
the figurine
faulting
ferociously frightened
hair stands up on your alabaster skin
feathers wrap ‘round
the porch climber
the climax shivering
eyes still staring
staring you down
daring you to look away
with that awful flapping
that territorial crapping
and
beak ringing
buzzing your bell
your hands now clasp
your ears - the silencer
of fears
you close your eyes
disguise the shadows
of the night
they open
all’s clear
nothing to fear
but the railings painted white
the awakening is bright
sinister in the moonlight
step out at your peril
pray for reprieve
are all exits marked
doesn’t matter…
the pulchritude of a speckled coat
in mid flight
breaks the splattered glass
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