Owls on either side of the house
in the coolest hour of a summer night

                                         when I wake to bend and draw
                                         up the sheet at the foot of the bed—

relay, pause, relay, then move on a little
further. I track them, one with each ear,

                                         owls in stereo, and then follow
                                         the zippering rasp of their fledglings

into the same dark, branch by branch.
I wait until the air has stilled once more

                                         before stretching, elbows pointed
                                         away from my ribs, letting a small

sigh that won’t wake you escape, and wonder
what on Earth I would ever do without you.



____

Michael Metivier (he/him) is a writer, editor, and musician living in Vermont. His work has appeared in EcoTheo Review, LAAB, jubilat, Crazyhorse, and African American Review, among other journals, and is forthcoming in Bennington Review and Northern Woodlands.