The hawk dived in his body to reach hers.
She felt it strike and then begin to pick.
Her convulsion was the epitome of quick
flight: what the hawk did made her seizure his.
Her body was the perch and prey of an exquisite
homing: his in the hawk of precipitous hunger,
hers in the talons of unerring visit,
and the body of both in the weight of love as anger.
This was the sum that cried and hunted hunger.
This was home for an instinct old as the sun
searching out the planets to give them light
among particles that slammed the dark like rain;
and both along their sinews felt the weight
of the hunt about to slacken, and the hawk struck again

* Published in The Weekend Australian (Review, October 27-28, 2001, Page 8).