Arc lamp catches the awkward bend of wings
descending like a plastic tarp carried by wind:
whiteness yellowed, moving into night.

I saw nothing in your talons
clutching emptiness like a child’s cone—
tipped, mint ice cream melting on the sidewalk.

What were you after? A chipmunk faster
than flash of a retinal tear? A rabbit that swerved?
A squirrel? You were an impressive failure—

from your size, I gather, not a common description,
accustomed to quick kills of unsuspecting mice.
Yet, how wraithlike your wingbeats appeared:

apparitions observed & vanishing.
I’d have you return so I could study you.
I suspect you’re close, studying me—

a pair of eyes in ghost-light at midnight,
hunters with rifle sights targeting,
ready to bloody the field.