Friday 30 November 2012

#94 - How To Break An Owl

'Don't fuck with me.' The barn owl pulls a luger
as she backs towards the door. 'I shit mouse skulls.'
The owl has a head that winds like a clockspring.
It is cruel and delightful; a porcelain gallows.

Every year the same routine; the stand-off,
the armed escape. She wears her beak like a ventilator.
Sometimes we applaud as she leaves.
Today, she puts a bullet through the signed photo

of Lonny Donegan over the fireplace.
'For Eric,' she whispers,


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