Hawk by Rick Barot
Hawk
Rick BarotIn the park we stopped and looked up at the high branch where the ferruginous hawk ate another winged thing, the torn feathers drifting down. The hawk made a noise, like a little lever of pleasure giving way inside. I thought of the question the choreographer asked her gathered dancers: What do you do in order to be loved? It was as though I’d been holding my breath the whole day, walking beside you. A strong spring light struck us. Next to you on the ground, your shadow looked like crumpled black paper.
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SHARED WITH GRATITUDE
This poem appeared in The Common Mag , Issue 29, 2025.
ABOUT RICK BAROT
Rick Barot’s most recent book of poems is Moving the Bones (Milkweed Editions, 2024). He lives in Tacoma, Washington, and directs the Rainier Writing Workshop, the low-residency MFA program at Pacific Lutheran University. (Source)
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ENDNOTES
- Explore other works in pursuit of: violence • love • attention • Or browse the index
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