Accident or Suicide
rochelle holt
Every day, every night, the sirens scream,
because snowbirds collide, disturbing owl
who is jolted anew to burrow out
from secluded nest, feathered with fiction.
Her chin to the wind, she is sailing gray
letters and grants, entries for contests, stamps
on envelopes with revised resume,
living at P.O. or with Xerox camped.
Ambulance blares down U.S. 41,
nW~ fire truck echoes red on Summerlin;
Next morning, she flies past flower-wreathed grave,
Mflanched wings aquiver, grasping paper waves.
What matter or purpose this obsession
with byline credit, few coins for a bill?
Strange owl retreats from business of building,
to find security ia silent rain.
