Poetry: From the September/October 2009 issue | See all poetry
Gullwing
Found a gullwing in the woods
broken fan of gray feathers
held with sinew
glassine remains of skin.
Spine of each pin feather
large enough to make a pen
some feathers wattled others
solid driftwood, scree, and clinker ash,
each feather only itself—this one
white at the skin end
blacker towards the tip
then white silk
tapering—tissue and fiber
that held the gull in glide
above the wrack line.
Hunger to see and see again
brought the wing into the house
hunger to hear still the riffle.
