FortuneTeller

People didn’t care

Just like with the Nightingale

The dead bird outside Starbucks

Didn’t warrant consideration

His feathers mottled by hot pavement

I felt

Bad I hadn’t noticed at first

But I’d been watching you walk

And recalling the depth of your coffee eyes

Whom of us lovers, has time

For dead birds

Finally a man thinks he’s brave to kick

Feathered corpse off to the side

Indicative of these times

I thought of the Happy Prince

Giving away his gold and jewel eyes

Enlisting a little bird to pluck

His riches to give to the poor

How I read that in school sitting

Elbow to elbow with sloe eyed kids who

Scratched their dry elbows raw

And the very same week we came across a dead bird

Its grave still beneath the weeping willow

Fastened by a Palm Sunday cross we’d kept unbroken in a book

Where children learn almost by hook and rook

Whether to practice compassion

Or not

I said to you; Oh look, it’s a poor dead bird

I wonder why it died? As if flung from the sky

And your eyes were hurt just as I knew they would

Because you are a grown child

I’d be bound to love

And we’d bury birds together

In every place they fell

Even if only a few care

Beginning in the playground

Watch them

Children will show you

Their future character.

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Choice

thlkkOne night quenched of light

as we lay unraveled in fold of sheets

like unwilling fish for morning fry

she turned to me and asked

what made you choose me?

I wanted to say

even if you were not here

and by moon I could not make out

the clemency of your shoulders

narrow and bony without their wings

even if in the darkness your scent did not

open a box of flowers crusted with honey

longing I cannot describe but with touch

sighting the marzipan of your curves

I would have wanted

the girl whose legs reminded me of a childs

in their awkward gait as foals will stand unsure

elongated against distance

their large eyes blinking

unknowing of what they need more

the urgency of galloping

or to seek warmth among others

you were a kite

striking branches twisting free

you were a rapture

exploding under water in silver shoal

you were a song

broken against coming darkness

bidding dreams welcome

you were a cacti

weathering assault, growing deeper with

each rush of red sand

covering over potential like a hidden lake

shall glimmer unseen

until revealed she takes her

place marking the world

in gentle caress and with one

stride opens even the most

reluctant to her behest

I didn’t choose you

you chose me like spring

conducts the sleeping to unveil

bidden, make your climb

toward her galvanizing urge