Love For This Bird
I.
She makes room in her bird-nest hands, full and woven with various twigs,
sheer feathers,
when she collects the things that fall
mostly of ocean. Is she, sky? I ask the ocean for its birds.
II.
Walk softly in her hills, soil bright with moon, all found
in the palm of her smile. Morning finds audience behind
sheer curtains of wave and lacy lines on face. Walk towards
leave and return on her lips. She will make cliffs
out of static rock and hollow birch.
You will inhale as she commands.
III.
Cliffs are scattered with feathers and other things
birds search for. Anticipate earth- like she, the bird,
will guide you home. Shove me back into the mouth
of this ocean, my place. I have left nothing,
there is nothing left and she, living as a bird
in a nest of cliff, soil, and hunger, is alive.
beautiful.
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