Published in Third Wednesday, Vol. III, No. 2, Winter 2015.
I gaped cirrus clouds
I knew the bluebird
that fell down my throat, the one
that bathed in rain-light.
He grasped my air
to trill our names, his siren song
our recliner, the dormant grass
our bed to witness
sky’s attempt to match
I gurgled blasphemy
Bluebird knew the scissor-tailed
Flycatcher, the one that absconded
with our laughter.