In Response To 'hawk Roosting' By Ted Hughes: Mouse Waiting Poem by Amelie Ison

You sit above me, on the throne of the world.
Our leader, no dispute as to who is in charge
But the fear of your hooked head and hooked feet:
It chases us even as we sleep.

O how everything does convenience you most!
It is like the air's buoyancy and the sun's ray
Were made as an advantage to you;
But the earths do not face upward for your inspection.

I see your feet are locked upon the rough bark.
Are you holding on tight enough?
One day Creation will refute its great obscenity
And remind you that you hold nothing in your foot:

You are not more powerful than nature itself—
But you kill where you please because you think it is all yours.
No sophistry you infect us with could ever be enough:
All you seem to be good for is tearing off heads—

The allotment of death.
But you will not live forever; even you are not safe.
Through the bones of the dead,
Whispers begin to dispute your right:

The sun is behind you
But its light has not gone out since you began.
Your eye permits no change
But, now, your eyes have closed.