A Poem A Day, Poem #30

you are a bird singing, like a song lilting
away the hours with the brutality of a brilliant
heartbreak in the dreary distance
and that fading sound is the prettiest of pains, waiting
for uprisings and new deliriums to deliver--like
your lovely body curving a little repose around
the slowest drips of a dream

and how do you feed me this music after time
has so inelegantly tumbled down those achy
dust traps of memory tripping on the rusty wires
of the throat, choking on the most forgetfullest
little fingers pressing lips for kisses,

and how do these hums hover like some ghosts
of hands brushing away a tickle of your hair?

(and a laugh and a cry falls out of a song and we
watch it dance until the light inside it fades away
into a wonderful wee withering)