Pam Bernard
| poetry


The ear is the last face. —Emily Dickinson


Now the owl comes

to my sleep, unbidden.

I take its call, sculpted

and clear, in to the immensity

inside me, let it pass


through, a journey

not governed by wisdom.

The owl is hungry

and will not stay long.

It means only to be owl,


not gift or omen.

It will not fall silent

when I die, nor will I

grieve in its absence.


But how perfect now

the increase.

Pam Bernard received her MFA from the Graduate Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College, and BA from Harvard University. Her awards include a NEA Fellowship in Poetry and two Mass Cultural Council Fellowships. She has published three full-length collections, and most recently a verse novel entitled Esther (CavanKerry Press).

First Born, a glosa
Saturday Morning, Low Tide