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1. You disappear so beautifully.
Eyes wide, perfectly aligned,
as if you could see, as if
Matisse’s joy
might be happiness --- the azure/
pumpkin/scarlet fields set
lightly inside his penciled outline.
The main star shines, no glare.
And it’s possible that
somewhere less frantic
charged particles
rest before they exit.
2. But blonde light, like a starlet’s
hair, sweeps all things
equally: calamity rests,
fallow in the field.
And the north-bred yearling hawk
looms motionless, like a stuffed
& mounted version of himself.
Watching. Shadowless. Red eyes wide
& perfectly aligned. And then,
when it’s time, he just disappears.