Tag Archives: Sharon Venezio


by Sharon Venezio

every season flocks
of hunters raise their rifle
to the sky

no mercy in a bird’s wing
no mercy in the wild

forget the whooping crane
on its first migration

forget the blazed air
where you and I stood
watched them rise
from their shadows

mercy the bullet
mercy the sky

forget them, forget you
let’s say the last spark
of yes was dusted away

let’s say I was the rifle
you the crane

let’s say it never happened



after Alicia Ostriker
by Sharon Venezio

As his loneliness became
backwash at the bottom
of his third drink, he slipped
into the emptiness of earth,
looked around for what wasn’t
there, knew it was time.

He’d seen me before, playing
in the field, knew where
the sunset would find me.
Get in the car, he said.
I tried to resist, pulled shards
of teeth from my mouth, fell
into the emptiness of the back seat.
And then it was winter.


In darkness there is no love.
We’re tethered by seasons.
I am a cocooned thing, a bird
caught in the throat, disappearing
under his hands.

The body is its own animal.
It can submit to yes
while the mind reaches for a gun.
Each of my hands a small grief,
grasping, as if they could hold light.