A blackbird and a moonbeam
once buried in my memory,
now - not to be imagined, just
dust and fragments,
feathers, darkness,
starriest loneliness; rush of breath,
a breeze
at the window, open
to the night, with streetlights
shimmering through, everything white;
my vision fading
beneath the screen
of so many feathers. Only cars passing, one after the other -
together.
       A reminder
of time, flies
humming, in the ear;
that familiar sting
screaming forever.