in my eye. In the branches mirror-
silvered by an inch of ice, you
were a movement and a frigid little song,
a frozen hinge opening.

I never thought before
to wonder do avians have artifacts
of vision, too. Eye wall art
with no provenance as if graffito
ninjas swim the humors, spray can
stencil hawks primed
to vex the optic nerves.

How small those birds would be.

—
Barbara Young is a native of Nashville, Tennessee. She likes bluegrass, blues, jam cake, chess pie, cats, and small but roomy cars; and she wishes she’d paid more attention.