Who had done this to you?

You looked in the mirror
through slashes on your face

to see slashes on the face in the mirror
and on that girls shoulder
too.

Raise the hands.
Abrasions next to scars
and your eyes looking.

What happened last night?

There was the gardening,
the weeding and smoking,
the drinking and weeding.
The tulips, their containers,
the rake and the breeze.

There was the phone, busy.

There was the owl that came
detached from the looming pine
as day gave way.

There were the tulips
still glowing lavender
in the last light
and the phone,
still busy.

Maybe a walk.

Maybe something else.

Not the owl,
talons outstretched.
But the night itself
descending
and its prey
carried away

as is the order of things.