Owls Can Live 100 Years by Rose Adams

Mother knits you
from snot & silk & memory,
building your tiny bird bones
from her own teeth
and glass upon glass
of full-fat milk,

or else she finds you
& your valentine heart,
builds a nest from light,
sap & broken branches,
circling the wild air,
singing your homecoming.

You have her eyes
even if
you don’t.