Owlhead

She tells me that now and then
she likes to put on this owlhead.

She explains to me that when she
has her owlhead on, she can see
in so many directions at once.

She says it slows her down,
being able to view the world
in such a panoramic way,
through the eyes of an owl.

In her day-to-day life,
she tells me, sometimes
it feels like she has
tunnel vision,

and like she only has
three minutes
for everything.

That is why I put on
the owlhead,
she tells me.

I can watch the moon
move slow at night.

I can see the field mice
below me in its glow
and grab them
in my claws,
she tells me.

But sometimes,
she tells me,
when I put on
the owlhead
I can’t sleep.

I become restless,
spooked by each
and every sound.

I am consumed by it,
and I never know when
the fear will come
for me.

I tell her maybe you
shouldn’t put on the owlhead.

Maybe instead just take off,
now and then,
into the forest at night.

I have tried that,
she says to me,
but there is nothing for me
that makes me feel
the way I feel
when I wear
the owlhead.

There just is nothing
that slows me down
the same way as this
owlhead.


day #18 of #nationalpoetrymonth | Cover image: Annie Spratt

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