Sunday, March 23, 2014

Vernal

Sparrows tear the slender yellow grass
and fold it between their wings.
Dogs snuff the chainlink corners,
matted thatch and loam churned
by an army of awakened nematodes
and the polearm thrusts of crocus.

The bluesky battle
of ice-borne breezes
over warm soil,
melting river water
muddying the thawed banks.

Across the city, birds of prey
dredge gravel trenches and squat,
between thunderclaps birth
mottled eggs, sea-green or onion skin stained,
dried and cooled in the curve of
skyscraper airstreams.

The spit of snow
on feathered shoulders,
lace-edges bronzed with the curl
of strong sunshine.

Our legs move in tandem;
mine bear us across scuffed bridges
while yours turn and stretch,
warm in my nest of blood.
The hand of winter, elegant fingers,
lingers on the pulse of my throat
but I exhale, beware, bewitch,
coax my heart to speak spring
into our twined souls, 
reveal our knotted roots, sipping
from the same stream.







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