Quick as a moth, rises the bird in the air,
all rush of wings and glancing of sun from black feathers.
The small shell tucked in its beak, barely visible,
caught between the bird’s breath and the sky,
will remember this moment as a hurtle towards earth,
a violence, a scream of air, a tumble,
although the memory will be short
(a whisper of a second of a minute)
because the landing will break it,
crack the shell into glimmers of white
and blue and silver, revealing slick
mollusc which the bird’s tongue
will slink into greedily, silkily.

Suzannah V. Evans is a poet, editor, and critic. She was born in London and studied at     the universities of St Andrews and York. She has taught in France and Germany, worked in publishing, and was recently a sound technician, translator, and interpreter for StAnza poetry festival in St Andrews. Her writing has appeared in the TLS, Eborakon, New Welsh Review, The Scores, Time Present, Tears in the Fence, Asymptote, and elsewhere. She is Reviews Editor for The Compass.

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