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Barbara Costas-BiggsBarbara Costas-Biggs is the 2017 winner of the Split This Rock Abortion Rights Poetry Contest. Her work is forthcoming or has appeared recently in Glass, MORIA, Dodging the Rain, Bird’s Thumb, Calamus, District Lit, Literary Mama, Compose, and others. She lives in Southern Ohio, and can be found online at www.barbwrites.com.
Facebook // facebook.com/barbarabiggs Twitter // @bcostasbiggs |
Safeguards
The red-tailed hawk stood,
its bird-hips splayed,
legs muscular like a man, a small rodent between them.
He stood and did not eat
did not carry the meal away
and I thought about all the blame I placed
on hawks after moving here, my flock
of hens growing smaller
one at a time, one at a time, and then one more.
As in so many instances, so many loops that run
on repeat in my mind
I was dead wrong about the hawk
with his legs like a man’s and his talons that hold tight,
beak curved like a scythe.
It was never the hawk.
All of the precautions I took meant
nothing. The barbed wire coiled on the
fence posts, the terrible owl decoys, the
mirrors dangling from fishing line.
I should understand, but I always forget.
Safeguards never mean anything.
its bird-hips splayed,
legs muscular like a man, a small rodent between them.
He stood and did not eat
did not carry the meal away
and I thought about all the blame I placed
on hawks after moving here, my flock
of hens growing smaller
one at a time, one at a time, and then one more.
As in so many instances, so many loops that run
on repeat in my mind
I was dead wrong about the hawk
with his legs like a man’s and his talons that hold tight,
beak curved like a scythe.
It was never the hawk.
All of the precautions I took meant
nothing. The barbed wire coiled on the
fence posts, the terrible owl decoys, the
mirrors dangling from fishing line.
I should understand, but I always forget.
Safeguards never mean anything.
