Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsSpring 2011 v10n1

no more than the bird with piercing voice (fragment 30)

no more than the bird with piercing voice
am I, stitching the ragged summer clouds
with silk-weight feathers.

my piercing voice reminds duets to unwind
from their love–singed nests
and emerge from their homes while
the sun is still gloriously clinking
to quench themselves with light
and paddle their feet in the muggy air.

my piercing voice reminds those that live
in solitude, to fly among others,
and band together to raise hue and cry
against the death of the hushed grass
the vertiginous fall of the sparkling leaves.
to live on, to live on though all of us
but break into insubstantial music
like quarks.  end