We found her in the shadow

of the gas drum;

a pleat of otherness

pinched from her dominion.

Maw like a whale,

head slit to gill air,

a dark scythe

at our feet.

We willed her wings to open

her form take shape,

conflate to airy spaces.

A new crescent moon.

We picked the whole contraption up,

brindled, tawny, creamy throat;

she spilled over our hands

into awe.

Her claws were shriven,

her eyes the eyes

of something fallen,

the weight unbearable

so we sent her onwards,

to beat at the heels

of a young god's sandals,

set her away, windward.