To the birds

Eagle’s plume,

You dance on wind

And cradle the sun 

I am drawn to all Fathers

Who rock the skies to sleep

Sing to me,

Bathe me in affirmations

So I can soak in them

Whenever I am parched 

Yesterday my belly swelled with 

Your starry smile,

Each tooth a Great Wall

Between your tongue and mine

Today I am older

Happy 

To look up but not wish

To look back but not miss

Predation,

Only the empty nests

Where we left the future

To the birds

8/3/21

Astral Projection

Dancing, black silhouette behind a snow-soaked pane

A tree or a sprite, maybe,

It’s hard to make out through her wings–

like mossy green growths from her chair–

brushing the walls in narrow halls,

trailing her scent of clove and citrus

with traces of glitter

 

when she sings, the trees bend in half

and my heart swells against my ribs

until we’re all pleasantly uncomfortable,

inside and out

 

For a moment I remember the first time

I heard Tori Amos while reading up on time travel

and I feel myself astral projecting

beyond the dark strings and siren notes

 

No one notices me flying before I catch myself

staring at the shadow outside, still dancing

 

11-11-19

 

 

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