PIVOT POINTS  |  Joshua Poteat

Nocturne: For the Aviaries

Then the rain came,
               full of a sadness I’ve never seen before,
through the cottonwoods
               and along the river,
which is no longer a river
                                          but an apparition under the sand.

Had I five hummingbirds,
               I would make a love charm
and string them from the tongue
               of a small copper bell in those branches,
                                          necks hovered together, broken.

Had I a swan, it would sleep
               under the hives
with a bucket of fresh milk,
                                          with the splintered white faces of goats.

To reclaim or take apart the night,
               like the city does, carving through
the blind river?
                                          The brilliant debris of stars, the air?

Nothing in this world is ours.  

Commentary	People Who'd Kill Me  (Spain, 1939)		Nocturne:  For the Aviaries		Nocturno:  Para las Jaula