to-night

there’s a late night louisiana caw in the corner
a humid grey night gurgle, glogging its treble birdy nightsong
between folds of wet air. focus on that, I say.

see the way this night does not contrast much
with the tree right there, that reaching night tree,
ripe in shadow and heavy with day gone dark? look at it full.

the air tonight does not hop around my skin
but holds breath absolutely still
and waits to exhale wet heat on my neck.
hot fowl and heavy, this night gone cawing,
screaming its low song along the night beat beside my chair.

***

Linda BattsonLinda Battson is a writer and artist living in Austin, Texas. She spends her days selling pens and her nights engaged with those she loves. Linda enjoys authentic conversation, participating in the mental health discussion, and using writing as a tool to navigate the chaos of life. She is currently publishing her second book of poetry.