The Pointed Circle, Spring 2021
Toys of Divine Beings
Hazel killed a little bird today
I caught him in the act striking
the terrors of smaller amusements
emotions ripped between
the nature of one and the life of another
intervening I was
stretching out the agony
this little winged creature in cardiac arrest
her chest heaving as if her heart might explode
over and over, up and down
Nothing could save her.
I placed her still warm under a tree.
Maybe I was wrong, maybe she was just resting.
Naive thoughts often arise when the heart comes near bursting
Things might turn into other more pleasant things
if only we just wish them so.
I once refused to love anything more than the love of my life,
enamored I was and wanted nothing to take that away
Sometimes in these moments we are just toys of divine beings