Wings wipe the sky, smear and gone

leave the raw caw cry behind,

a fluid composition after rain

          rinses the high gray,

a day smudged, flood by light diffused,

no shadows but these black rags,

murder witness spelled across the canvas,

          incantation canted.

Tricksters in triplicate, carbon copies crease

oil shades I blotch below my eyes.

See the years fly, feathers brushing

          up against the fence,

the dead tree left.

Joannie Stangeland is the author of two poetry chapbooks. Her poems have also most recently appeared in Crab Creek Review, Iota, Ascent, and San Pedro River Review.