First Kiss

we will meet each other like hawks who, at first tender, soon nip, nip nip nipping until tiny cries pierce out, deep from our guts, talons clawing the bark of the conifer to fine dust.
i a sharp-shinned hawk (accipiter stratus) only slightly more pale and spare than you, will be caught in my tree, at just about its height, in the night, and it will be my eyes, orange lit moons flitting through the leaves that pull you, you a black sparrow hawk (accipiter melanoleucus), somehow drawn north, now lost, black belly, white breast, with a dove in your beak.
you’ll not know i’ve not eaten in weeks, and that this hunger has been a choice.
i am white-breasted, black-backed, so when we flutter together we become one monster bird of night and light.
you’ll first offer the dove, and we will share the feathered flesh, the snapping bones, until below us, the tree seems dusted in snow and then you will kiss the gold of my cere.
i will hook my bill into your nape.
you’ll wiggle your bill down into mine.
this close, you’ll notice my underparts are blue-gray, a startling flash of topaz when flecked by light.
and your belly glistens both night and day, like a black beetle’s shell.
like a black beetle’s shell, we are hard, yet smooth, soft if touched gently, cracking to ooze if pecked at and with this nip nip nipping it is clear, we will not let up till we’ve nipped to the juice.


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© 2018 Monica Lewis