hold yourself against me


a mouse is moving through a quiet field

the moonlight on his fur

silhouetted against the thin sky is a globular shape;

a clawed owl

doing only that which itís born for


slipping its wings through the barn owl darkness of the night

it doesnít envision itself as a threat it

only sees the mouse


eating mouthfuls of this grain

its belly is disemboweled


the violence of the world turns

spins again