I saw a red-tailed hawk,
with his red tail flashing
sunlight
lift up off the side
of the highway,
that storms a concrete path
parallel to Louisville,
along the river bank.
He shouldn’t have been there.
A big, bronze bird
like the one who lives
along the weedy, gravel trail
to the home cemetery.
He shouldn’t have been there,
beautifully out of place,
hunched up in shadow,
picking at fat, rat roadkill,
under an overpass.
Misty Skaggs, 30, is a hillbilly blogger, an independent scholar, a barefoot poet and a lifelong resident of Eastern Kentucky. Her poetry and prose have appeared in literary journals such as Pine Mountain Sand & Gravel, New Madrid, and Limestone. Currently, Skaggs is hocking her self-published collection of gritty, narrative style poems which offers a dark and intimate look at prescription drug abuse in Appalachia.
