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Belted Kingfisher

May 26, 2012

Despite your gentrified black featherdo,
carefully spilled upward hard and ragged,
despite how you slipped so classily–yes
royally, I’ll give you that–just over
the surface, almost touching, almost
wetting the tips of your excalibur
self; when you speared that fish and pounded it
to death and then, having swallowed it, skinned
off over the water again for more,
you looked just hungry, like everyone else.

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