Another bird wearing

a prayer on each feather


Just like a dream,

but here I am in a seedy hotel bed,

another paper cup of bitter brown,

a tear in each pull


I used to lock fingers with the oak

in our front yard.

Today I locked eyes with that chesty hawk

and then with that wine-stained woman

wearing three decades of grief


She gave me six years with her stare

and I held her gaze like the oak

held my hand before I knew

how to hold my own


Now I hold my own

so I can hold hers, too



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: