Tree Ghost
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There's a rush, a rustle among branches of a conifer, & then mutable silence rushes in like after a fight or making love. The wings settle. The third eye blindfolded. Hunger always speaks the same language. Branches shudder overhead, & the snowy owl's wingspan seems to cool off the August night with a breathing in & breathing out. I close my eyes & can still see the three untouched mice dead along the afternoon footpath. The screeching nest is ravenous. The mother's claws grab a limb. Now, what I know makes me look down at the ground. I can almost feel how the owl's beauty scared the mice to death, how the shadow of her wings was a god passing over the grass.
Yusef Komunyakaa, the subject of this issue of Callaloo, teaches at Princeton University. His most recent book of poems is Taboo: The Wishbone Trilogy, Part I. The numerous prizes, awards and honors he has received for his poetry include a chancellorship with the American Academy of Poets, the honorary degree of Doctor of Letters (Wesleyan University), the William Faulkner Prize (Universite Rennes, France), the Kingsley Tufts Award for Poetry, and the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry.
