(after Ted Hughes)
I sit under the eaves of buildings, my eyes open.

no falsifying dream between

my straight tail and straight brain.

no sleep to delay

me, I rewind the day’s play and zero

in on the city’s fringe-dwellers. 
the convenience of the high rise!

an abundance of electricity,

out of rock throwing range

and Earth’s faces up for my inspection.
my red eye can spot a mouse

twitch a whisker.

with just a whir, I can pivot about-face

on my steel-tipped wings and close

my shutters on persons of note. 
some days I link coppery claws

with my hunting mates in a grid

and together we fire up a live circuit,

scouring the field.
I am every court’s most

credible witness. my gaze

means the allotment

of both freedom and death.

for the one path of my flight

is direct through the eyes of the living.