by Alexa Fermeglia

Here is the falcon,
here is the falconer.
You are not the prey
that does not know
what’s coming next,
or the bird singing its
death song
learned though its thousand years.
You are not the sky,
its heavy bowl of blue
unblinking,
the net through which
the hot sun beats down.
You are not the hare,
who hears its heartbeat
six and eight and ten times faster
on its last run
above ground.
You are not the wind,
and for god’s sake
you are not the sun.
You are the witness,
pricking your ears
toward a cry,
your skin shivers,
silence.
You wait again to hear it.
Maybe you were mistaken,
maybe it was
something else.

Alexa Fermeglia is a poet and visual artist based in Budapest. She is the founder and organizer of the Budapest Poetry Collective, a member of the Panel Literature Association, and the co-founder of HEXA, which produced the poetry podcast, Just Below the Surface and the zine/performance project, Pieces. Her work can be found in If We’re Talking Budapest, The Inklette, and Tast. Zine. She is online mostly on Instagram @blink.t.w.i.c.e.