You disappear so beautifully.
Eyes wide, perfectly aligned,
as if you could see, as if
might be happiness...the azure/
pumpkin/scarlet fields set
lightly inside his penciled outline.
The main star shines, no glare.
And it's possible that
somewhere less frantic
rest before they exit.
But blonde light, like a starlet's
hair, sweeps all things
equally: calamity rests,
fallow in the field.
And the north-bred yearling hawk
looms motionless, like a stuffed
& mounted version of himself.
Watching. Shadowless. Red eyes wide
& perfectly aligned. And then,
when it's time, he just disappears.
originally published in the Minnetonka Review