This piece was an honorable mention for the 2020 American Academy of Poets Prize at Duke University.
like a newborn foal—
bowlegged, pigeon-toed,
drawn in swift slips to the clover-cover
of the soft green ground
more joint than not, legs buckle
knees, knuckle, tiptoe
arch-fallen, spur-ridden,
hoof-cloven, hollow
graceless in shape, sinew,
slow-stumbling raceless
wide-eyed, wet-maned,
still slick with womb-water,
walking in heaves and shudders
till the earth pushes,
sky pulls,
and—lighter than light—
canters forth
LASERBEAM
coy, a real wallflower at first,
then dashing across the floor
where we scramble-scuttle,
paws straining, claws out,
scratching wood-floor-empty-nothing
and just when we’ve forgotten,
LASERBEAM
smirking out of reach
silent siren-song pulsing
ears unwaxed, teeth bared
we dive and scratch and stretch
and come up emptyhanded, bloody,
betrayed
and when we think we’ve learned—
LASERBEAM
caught, (we are hunters born) but immaterial,
ethereal,
ghostthin—
we don’t notice when it’s gone
honeysuckle evening
when the moon can’t see us
hiding between the breaths of flowers
sunsigh still over land
we don’t pierce the silence it would bleed
even the crickets are muted in wonder
the water falls upwards
the frost unfurls
we hold time hostage
it surrenders
(katydids startle
fireflies fade
and we among them flash, then falter)
later, when we have loosed our grip
it slips away from us
like a crow released from a ship’s bow—
landbound, seeking terrain,
fleeing the throttlebend of albatross
circling the stern like carrion,
beelining for the horizon
(pyrite sunglint over wave-dapple)
drawn ever forwards by
the kiss of distant shores
and the promise of renaissance
the opposite of olive-branch
caged by scurvy sailors
until the stars scramble
and instinct alone can guide us
Thalia Halloran 
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