Birds of Prey

There is an island
Off the coast of a smaller island
And maybe it was once called
In a native tongue
The land where the ocean was created
But now if it were even on a map
It would say
A sad land like so many ice cream truck graveyards
Where whispers go alone
To live amongst the plagues

There is a small box
In the corner of every room that I don’t want to be in
Menacing me with times tables
And yearbook pictures

Were I to catch that box
I would open it slowly
With leather gloves
Making sure my shoes were tied
Making sure it wouldn’t get the better of me
Then I would fill it
With what
Only I know

There is a bird of prey
That I taught how to fly
And he thinks that I’m his father
And he’s flying
Toward the island
With my box
And after he’s dropped it
The box will sit amongst
Shrubs and shadows
And from a distance
There seems to be the faint sound
Of drums
But now I’m feeding
My bird of prey
Pieces of meat
And watching myself
In the reflection of his eye