Barn Owl Over the Levels
I saw her once, flying towards me.
Her pale, heart-shaped face
wearing my dark eyes.
Barn owl stalks the liminal edge
water and light deepening to violet;
her talons will take heartbeats
in white silence; as much as she needs
from the visible dark that swells around
like the sea. Some nights, the levels
are thick with saltflecks of stars
and she is the moon’s flying woman,
cloaking light over her deadly wings.
I would be luminous then, walking
beside her on stilts, entering the marsh
through the night gate above the water,
trailing my sharp net, certain to find you.
© Rose Flint
Rose Flint has worked as a creative writing tutor and was for 10 years Writer in Residence at Salisbury District Hospital, working in all areas of healthcare. She has five collections, including A Prism for the Sun (Oversteps). Awards include the Cardiff Poetry Prize and the Petra Kenney International Prize.