Time to squander, enough to study owls
in their nightly hunt, eyes wide, talons flashing,
scooping cicadas and mice from purpling
grass, leaving neat packages of hair and bone.

How, like the owl, you watched me, dared me frolic
for a moment under the moon, craters
plain on its face, lava’s heat long forgotten,
reflected in the icy limestone circle

Floridian spring. I dared play, gambol,
dive breathless, flip my mercurial tail,
emerge into silken night, dripping stars.
You struck. Absconded with my insides, soft

parts. Left a cage, bilious shell, elusive
heart. Beats echo in me from wherever you are.

Gabrielle Freeman’s poetry has been published in many journals including Beecher’s Magazine, Chagrin River Review, The Emerson Review, Gabby, Minetta Review, and Shenandoah. She earned her MFA in poetry through Converse College. Gabrielle lives with her family in North Carolina. She blogs about writing and all things random at http://www.ladyrandom.com.

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