gently tapping
at my chamber door
came this bird
as one word..

the word seemed to say
not your old booklore
not some visitor
not the darkness there
not the whispered name..
but simply perching
and waiting..this word in
my silence..terrified..

I sat on my cushion
with my imaginings
with my memories
some perfumed..
and the word repeated
not these..not these..

a question arose
of biblical import
and in desperation
I implored about the
balm in Gilead..?
the word repeated..

upstarted I demanded
departure..leaving my
loneliness unbroken..
and even to this
the word repeated..

the word still sits
above my chamber door
awaiting my waking
from my life in shadow
floating on the floor...