Ava Lynn Archer

On razor wings, you slice through air as cold as lonely nights in fall
Your piercing gaze—it hooks a mouse that flees in terror at your call
Within that twilight dimness, your deep hunger is set afire
And like the ghost of God’s demands, it cannot be defied

For you are raptor by the bone, and talon kings do not surrender
As echoes of a brutal age still live in dreams that you remember
So bone for bone and blood for blood, you chase your quarry long and far
Pursuing through the air like thunder on the cusp of mortal war

And deep you dive toward the earth, as if old stone will yield in fear
Only to feint and pierce the mouse through bone and sinew, like a spear
With tawny wings, you mount a branch to feast like men: victorious
Another meal to quell desire, fine instincts honed and glorious