Bird Poem

Timothy Black’s first poetic novella, Connecticut Shade, is in its second printing through WSC Press. He teaches poetry at Wayne State College, and is a Cave Canem Fellow. He lives in Wakefield, Nebraska with his wife and two sons. Timothy’s work has appeared in the anthologies The Logan House An

Silent Flight, Downy

© Timothy Black
Silent Flight

The hawk’s silent flight is a whispered
secret, a dangerous secret,
the one you told

under the swing set in elementary
school. The bird banks, a drawn bow,
the release of which

is the quiet of empty institution halls. The bird is a
flying mountain snowcap, gunmetal gray,
the gun you found in your father’s room.

Dihedral drops have the grace
of a smoking rifle shaft –
wisp-blue in the rise
of its horizontal shift.


There is a male
at the feeder.
Looks like a Downy,
red cardinal hat,
black raccoon mask.
A long beak.
Not too long,
sharp. White breast. Black
spotted wings. He reminds me
with quick pecks at the suit –
we skipped church due to
too many kids at my son’s
party and me
with a bad back.
There were party favors,
and cake baked
in a freezer.

Votes: 10

Rating: 3.3

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