Griffin

The shadow had an eagle's head and a lion's weight. A griffin dropped onto the rock, wings still tasting the wind, talons on stone, the body of a hunter that does not belong to one animal. People who saw the landing did not name the parts. They carried a griffin gift of that mixed heat, beak and mane together. It returns in griffin playing cards on a table that goes quiet, in a griffin notebook opened to a blank that wants both wing and paw, in a griffin postcard of the rock and the half folded wing. The rock cools. The wing does not fold all the way.