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