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-freelance writer, editor
& published poet-
Alexandra S. Thompson
scent of flight
A drowsy numbness follows the
sudden thrill, a
ringed-neck
drops
Senses drowning the muddied
waters of the Lethe, its
red wattle
limp
Mainly melanistic,
tan feathers inked with red
black-dotted breast
still
Heaving a little, head drooping
into the water where
Linneaus swims,
laconically listing,
“principum mensis dicatur!”
prince of the month
shot in a Montana field.
Later, when his
colored plumage was
plucked & dangling from
our dogs' collars,
I tasted the scent of
flight in his thigh.
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