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Barefoot on Thin Ice


She held up
She held up
Her hand
To the grackel
With the rotten meat
Of days past
And lost.
And waited.
And waited
As the grackel circled
Her son
Finally
Feeling the loss
But the love
And the offering.
He was ready
For his own
But she circled again
Very slowly
Eyes focused
Contracting
Dilating
Through tears of loss
And the spirit of
The offering.
She plunged from
The sky
Moon on tailfeathers
Pulled up
At eyes that met
And matc hed hers
To the arm
To the offering
Thinking
Whether to snatch
Or politely accept the bride price
Of her only son.
She cocked her head
To son with wings slicked back
And the look of no grackel's son
Anymore.
 
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