Reading · Creative Communion

I read that Nolan Wells’ parents paused commentary on their social media posts. This poem-in-progress begins with one of those comments that was a catalyst for the family to protect themselves.

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They said he shouldn’t have been there
They were great horned owls
sitting in the crown
Judging through egg yolk sclera
swiping at the mourning nest,
swooping into two squirrels,
and dumping salt into their fresh gashes
They easily consume exposed muscles, soft,
connective tissue still in tact—fresh pain
Empathy lost, they were crusted over from
having their own hearts ripped out and
having been draped in tin
Forgetting there is a season
for everything,
They were proud of their pontifications,
plumage on display,
self-adulation and
a turn from community, toward
an individualized need for validation
They were lost in America

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