Mercury (the Broad-Winged Hawk)

 

cury curous curious.

everything is made of wood:
benches and buildings and platforms and tables and, all the while,
hemmed in by wood

the sky, even:
blue-grained wood,
knots swirled white

he quicksilvers right through,
wings bark-brown and then ivory

–can’t seem to find any animal tracks in the dirt–

     What’s your name, again?

carved out under the tallest red trees, beam-bleached plume curls,
then eyes crisp like the tip of a feather quill

     Artemis–and yours?

his gaze holds still, fixed within fluid movement,
a reflective luster when the gold licks through the branches

cury curous curious.

     Mercury.

ensuing, his timbre hums to the tune of thinly-veiled self-amusement.

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