Archie Ammons, Robert Huff, Lew Turco y Dick Frost
en Bread Loaf en 1961
After the shot the driven feathers rock
In the air and are by sunlight trapped.
Their moment of descent is eloquent.
It is the rainbow echo of a bird
Whose thunder, stopped, puts in my daughters eyes
A question mark. She does not see the rainbow,
And the folding bird-fall was for her too quick.
It is about the stillness of the bird
Her eyes are asking. She is three years old;
Has cut her fingers, found blood tastes of salt;
But she has never witnessed quiet blood,
Nor ever seen before the peace of death.
I say: “The feathers – Look!” but she is torn
And wretched and draws back. And I am glad
That I have wounded her, have winged her heart,
And that she goes beyond my fathering.