As her baby bird splatters,
naked body contorted
into a crumpled discard
on the sidewalk,
The mother continues building her nest,
weaving twigs and nurturing
her valid children
underneath her directed warmth
The Mother’s Warmth
Less Than a Fire Breather
You desired the soul of a dragon
stashing gold underneath your talons
feeling the cool metal of riches
and scourching your tongue to feed your defenses
Now you must viscerally
gather the pocket change you have
to keep your blood flowing
and leave the cloak of desires
at someone else’s doorstep
The Bird
Pull me under the silted snow
Tuck me in under frost
Perch upon the branch, you red crow
Ice throttles me, I’m lost
Your words
your words are
a pinned moth
in my head
on display for
me to look
back on them
language that was
once alive and
pumping but now
is sitting in
the boundaries of
a wooden frame
Egret Standing
egret
steeping its legs
in
the runny fog
unable
to lift the
concrete
from its feathered
self