Before the bird eats the worm
it looks to me for forgiveness.
How do you tell nature it is not evil?
How do you promise there is nothing barbaric
about the way it stabs its beak into the earth
and uproots a body?
The animals were the first
masters of war, after all;
before we had rifles and bombs
they had tooth and claw
and knew how to strike a weak spot –
throat and eye and
But I was wrong about the bird.
It was not asking for forgiveness,
it was not even looking at me.
Nature, it seems,
does not need permission
to be what it is.