poem – goodolvic

bluebluewindows:

pub. in Okay Donkey

Pittering bird feet
Across the fiberglass hull
During my slumber.

Pecking the sealant
Smeared around a weathered hatch
By landlubber’s hands—

Hopeful drips will cease
With winter’s shadow looming.
Few avians left.

Lying still; listen.
It nears my blanketed nest
In the beast’s belly.

Curious, hungry,
Ever searching land and sky
But always awake.

Waiting silently
Until a white-crested dome
Appears in the field.

Our eyes meet through glass,
Our minds briefly enraptured.
Our hearts skipping beats.

Pittering bird feet
Across the fiberglass hull
During my slumber.

Pecking the sealant
Smeared around a weathered hatch
By landlubber’s hands—

Hopeful drips will cease
With winter’s shadow looming.
Few avians left.

Lying still; listen.
It nears my blanketed nest
In the beast’s belly.

Curious, hungry,
Ever searching land and sky
But always awake.

Waiting silently
Until a white-crested dome
Appears in the field.

Our eyes meet through glass,
Our minds briefly enraptured.
Our hearts skipping beats.

Light Snack

I brush against

the strain of tense

muscles. The hol-

lows of your knees.

Your ease of twist.

The grace of hon-

ey pouring in-

to the jar. Prick-

ly pear I peel

in silent prayer.

Dry, plump skin. Fang

marks. Juicy fing-

ers. Bob in the

bowl—turn around.

Moisture shimmers.

We are eating—

I am being.

Return to my

senses. See the

setting, smell it.

A dream no more.

Sauce everywhere—

an avalanche.

Just my sort of

a miracle.