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The Owl

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The flight attendants
go
from kore to semaphore

as a city falls into
discredited ether—

Gewick, gewick, oo-oo!

Shoulderless
stoic, take—from hands wisely
gloved—

a bony treat
through the hardware
in your face;

shrug your throat.

Source: Poetry (September 2010)

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This poem originally appeared in the September 2010 issue of Poetry magazine

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The Owl

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