Your talons caress soft skin and tendons
as they close gently but
inexorably around my neck.
The dark pools of your dinner plate eyes
are holes a thousand yards deep.
Your fine feathers flattened
by the force with which you fight
the very air that bears
you aloft. Golden sunset glints off
the deadly curve of your beak,
sharp as a scimitar where
it carelessly caresses the contours of my collarbone.
