on wings of the child
of a small yellow bird
it took just under
one awful minute

tires, voices
shouts, a scream
a chorus of them,
a choral chaos
that didn't stop
until you ran away
bird song halted

just like that,
those people
will never
be home
again.

Grocery store chocolate chip cookies
and cold milk in chipped whiskey glasses

on a dreary Sunday, foggy afternoon
the radio just feet from us, silent

rain gave up several minutes ago
so now it's just your voice and I.

We used
to talk
for hours.

Words
won't
water
flowers.

We fall into just the right places
now it's easy to undo these things
there's nowhere our hands
          don't know where to go
and we're asleep when
          the morning birds sing

our breath knows its way into rhythm
new is quiet and sincere
but still there are sparks
          in the spaces in the dark
and nothing can ever
          reach us here.

It is said so often
that if they love you
you can go anywhere
and they will follow you

every poet dreams this is
the truth as we run from love
but it isn't. We have been lied to
by those that haven't ever known

that love they write about so often.

All I
needed
to do
was fall
to learn
to fly.

Like pulling a rabbit
from an old black hat

you pull another life
from that flask

a magician
never reveals their secrets

and they never
produce real magic.