More Notes from the Owl

Who will win this time,
The sword or the line?

Will the god slice through
The long gift of words

Or will the words curl
And crush the god’s chest?

The owl roots for whom
The priests pray in fear.

When the line is cut
And the blade held up,

The priests start to cheer.
Bits of line slip off

In the dark to ring
The priests one by one.