last may
in the north american birds wing
teaching me of owls
i can't remember what it was you had said
about their wings
but i remember the yellow eyes
electric abyss
how you read each panel
carefully
i saw oma last night
wandered across the ocean into my dreams
wander is not the right word
she would tear the water into shreds
to get to me
in dream: shared abyss
her eyes
shared language
how we have torn the sea in grief
but last may
the owls
i am left searching the books you left behind
for what it was you had said
about wings
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