White Bars​
by Lisa Oyanna​
The Hawk's curved dagger
came down against
the lines of wind,
two white bars
upon his wings,
shafts of light on metal.​
It cut behind a tree,
diving from sight.​
The tree was a great white
husk, the slabs of bark
dried in the sun,
twisted shapes the size
of shields folding free.
Beneath a white bleached
leg bone, a tree trunk,
pocked with twig knots,
thrusting its snake limbs
wide and into the blue.​
Then up above the shadow
arced away, escaping
the tree, the bow, an arrow,
the shadow Hawk
loosed into the blazing sun.​