Osprey - Tác giả Hai-Dang Phan, pulished in New Yorker

Swelling out of the ocean like a bad feeling,
heard before seen slouching toward Miramar
over Venice Beach, it’s the Bell Boeing V-22,
not sleek but versatile, able to launch
from Al Asad, fly to Mudaysis, perform pickup,
then return, all within the golden hour,
fast enough to outrun a difficult past,
the budgetary hurdles and crashes in R. & D.,
the $72-million price tag, flyaway,
its many modes, and we think moods;
you remember its namesake in another state,
fled from some outer dark, gliding above
the diamond, from left field to center,
where it made its home up in the stadium lights,
a crown of wooden swords for its nest,
hovering in the swampy air like forethought
as the crack of a bat sent a tiny moon
into orbit, a wave rippling through
the crowd, the lights on their tall stems
powered on, day powered down,
and you had no team, you did not know
whom to root for, home or away.