< the city and the stars >
ray heinrich
she was born somewhere
in the city
buildings upon buildings
red brick
that sort of thing
hardly the place for owls
but always
for a mouse
and then
one evening
she
fresh from the city
and a breakfast of large corncakes
that morning
butter
and syrup from an un-marked gallon can
the dishes
set aside
she
had come to lick them
and the owl
had come to eat her
and we heard the owl
and said something like
“this sure isn't the city”
its buildings
unmissed
her children
filled with the dream of milk
