Devotion: Hawk

What is this thing I must sing to?

I stand up, sit

Down, then

Stand again.

My mind a fan blade pivoting

In patches in sunlight

And wind,

Scent of peony.

I wait for the bird half

Of my body

To reveal itself,

That sliver of food I carry

In my heart to feed the dead.

As if their leaving

Might finally mean something.

As if that bluebird

Coming down

Out of the pine

Might finally stall

At the feeder’s edge.

One cloud inlaid on the river

Like polished marble.

Light fraying to fading

Horse-shapes

Between the trees.

If one eye must quit its listening

And release its silver,

Then that wren is still there

On the lawn

Lashed down by ropes

And strings of wind,

Quietly feeding.

On the way out when I walked

To some arbitrary vantage,

A spot in the yard;

On the way back

(When I leaned down

And touched a poppy)

To the same.

Wet and tufted, unwounded.

I have taken for granted too long

The tongue’s relationship

To the lip,

So long

A saint might be teased

Out of it.

A mirror carried from darkness.

Then tremble, then seed.

Then then.

Time leaping forward just

For the thrill of it.

Logic like crystallized gypsum.

We sit:  the morning and I.

Consciousness:  our sleeve of honey.

Glass heart, glass eye, glass

Tongue, glass spine.

I can’t tell—

Of Buddha’s two deaths—

Which to prefer—

The one with poison

And a rush of blood

Or the one tamed

With willingness and grace.

Daylight sharpens

Its immaculate knife.

How does a bird know

It’s been lifted?

How know we have cheated sweetness

(And/or death)

Out of muscle and burning spoke?

M.P. Carver

M.P. Carver is a poet and visual artist from Salem, MA. She is Director of the Massachusetts Poetry Festival, miCrO-Founder of Molecule: a tiny lit mag, and teaches at Salem State University. Her work has been published in Rattle, Mantis, and Nixes Mate, among others. She has received funding or fellowships from the Massachusetts Cultural Council, the Essex Community Foundation, the T.S. Eliot Foundation, and Disquiet International. In 2022 her poem “You & God & I” was awarded the New England Poetry Club’s E.E. Cummings Prize. Her chapbook, Selachipmorpha, was published by Incessant Pipe in 2015, and a chapbook with Lily Poetry Review Books, Hard Up, is available now.

More at mpcarver.com.

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Ọna Anosike

Ọna Anosike

Ọna Anosike is a writer, editor, and literary leader whose work sits at the intersection of storytelling, community building, and educational design. She is a published writer and the founder and Editor-in-Chief of the TONIC, a literary journal dedicated to amplifying bold, original storytelling from underrepresented voices. Under her leadership, the TONIC has grown into a curated space for emerging and established writers alike. She has served as a writing instructor, both at the graduate and undergraduate levels, and was chosen as a judge for the 2025 Association of Writers & Writing Programs (AWP) Prize for Undergraduate Literary Magazines.

Her editorial and mentorship work is grounded in a decade of experience as an educational consultant and program specialist, designing inclusive learning systems for schools and nonprofits nationwide. She is currently completing a literary short story collection and a young adult novel, with early agent interest. She holds an M.S.Ed. in Education Entrepreneurship from the University of Pennsylvania, an MFA in Creative Writing from Lesley University, and a B.A. in English from Northeastern University. She is also the founder of Inkwell Montessori, an authentic Montessori school opening in Somerville, Massachusetts, in September 2026.

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