Chordeiles acutipennis
Lesser nighthawk
Barbara Rockman
Insomniac in search of respite,
my red-eyed dog and I go into the field
. . . star bright, first star I see tonight. . .
I think if I distract God,
change my plea from ethereal to mundane,
I will catch Her Holiness off guard.
I wish for chordeiles acutipennis to swoop
moonbeam to porch light.
I’d been researching night birds but
nary nightjar nor goatsucker blessed the sky
though there were moths and humming.
It was summer. Grass crunched.
Eggs had been laid in scars left by fires.
I’d crush the unhatched on blistered paths.
I imagined the hawk’s bristled gape,
tremolo and keen, white striped wings
glowing like plane lights—ever-hungry forager
as I, night after night, crave heaven’s feast
but am offered star thorns and breeze.
I turned to the earth-bound herding dog
curved to my thigh.
No avian eye shine. No whine or dive.
No evening song with strings.
~~~~~
Barbara Rockman is author of Sting and Nest, winner of the New Mexico-Arizona Book Award. Her 2019 collection is to cleave, University of New Mexico Press. Barbara teaches poetry at Santa Fe Community College, Esperanza Shelter for Battered Families, and in community workshops. She received her MFA from Vermont College of Fine Arts and lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico.