Silhouettes
A half dozen hawks
floated in the white sky
above an anonymous
river’s rushing brown floodwaters.
The sun above that scene was blinding,
beating down, drying
the bank’s loose prairie sand into cement.
There I stood like a monument
to tourism, lost in my phone.
Just one dumb picture of the birds’
perfectly choreographed circles
was all I wanted.
But they were already gone.
*
The Yawn
I’m so tired tonight
I worry I might
swallow the world.
*
Brian Beatty is the author of five small press poetry collections and a spoken word album. Beatty’s poems have appeared in Appalachian Journal, Conduit, CutBank, Evergreen Review, Exquisite Corpse, Gulf Coast, Hobart, The Missouri Review, The Moth, ONE ART, The Quarterly, Rattle and The Southern Review.
Such down to earth poems, to which most can probably relate. I can.
The missed perfect photo on the distracting phone.
The Yawn is delightful.