Origins
Black capped shrieks tear the sky into sharp angles
winging vivid pale across blue, catching
the midnight sun’s
horizon light
in scarlet blades. There are none fiercer
near nests, except every mother.
It’s unwise to generalize
about arctic terns and especially
about moms
or any other thing, in general
but even the blushing salmon’s body melts
long before the yolked alevin become fry
in the very same river each following fish
will someday seek
to die in
as if every particle in every possible
being were bound viciously, passionately
undeniably as one
to be known in a thrust of air
lifting feather
or the drawing tide
on silver scale
each cell a spark emerging
and returning
as one original fire.