The grief robin bubbles
from ***** the sun’s blazed emblem—
Morning comes in fits.
Scandent, white-blooming vines
tickle gray’d limestone ribcage—
This old house I’m bird upon.
People go in and out
and the door is always shut.
Who then, am I singing for?
My song is venom
to visitors: Thee beware,
I am a visitor here!
May 5, 2020
May 5, 2020 at 5:15 PM UTC
The grief robin bubbles
from ***** the sun’s blazed emblem—
Morning comes in fits.
Scandent, white-blooming vines
tickle gray’d limestone ribcage—
This old house I’m bird upon.
People go in and out
and the door is always shut.
Who then, am I singing for?
My song is venom
to visitors: Thee beware,
I am a visitor here!