Raptor
In memoriam, Jack Driscoll
The hawk’s cry is the wide eye of God, keen
and keening toward the dark field where I hide
with my cherished shame. The things I do must hurt
the earth. Aloft, those ghost-honed eyes have seen
my name writ large upon the land, the wide
swath of my going, its residue of hate.
Field-walking, I found a feather and believed
it hawk-fallen. In faith, I fletched a shaft to drive
a broadhead through my enemy’s heart.
But at full draw I knew I’d been deceived
about the nature of release. The feathers
were small kisses on my cheek.
Joshua McKinney’s fifth and most recent book of poetry, Sad Animal (2024), was the recipient of the inaugural John Ridland Poetry Prize from Gunpowder Press. His work has appeared in such journals as Boulevard, Denver Quarterly, Kenyon Review, New American Writing, and many others. His other awards include The Dorothy Brunsman Poetry Prize, The Dickinson Prize, The Pavement Saw Chapbook Prize, and a Gertrude Stein Award for Innovative Writing. He is co-editor of the online ecopoetics zine, Clade Song.
