A Girl as Mad as Birds
Now, across the common comes the beating drum of footsteps. Beneath the answering sky my fingers move histrionic through the grief of a rain burdoned and brittling windowsill. That same grief which flies to my door through the unsafe land of a sleepless life.
I hear the vile echoes of a house undone in loneliness ring on my door. The ancient masterpieces crying in their cages, wooden and erect as the wail of birdsong. Empty but for the slip of a girl overcome by the winged flight of swallows at her sanity. Her lips marking my dark eyed woes as long and as deep as her true living grave.
She has deluded the heaven-proof house with her nightmarish walk on the dusted boards worn thin by tears. Whispers of a male word, possessed in the fooling light bouncing about the walls.
You have conjoured me a theif in a cloud where love is caught and kissed. But ending is my chant of desire and guilt, which stars taught me with a tongue in my ear. My true love hold me and wish those theiving birds be still. An immortal genesis has shrunk in the translating eyes of a mortal sky.
Water enters beneath the opening window and runs through the rockery of my first vision like the boys running truant through time. You fed me with food of a cup chained to the ground that left me solitary as a bell in the dark.
Women figure straight with crooked bones unmade by her laid beloved. And in her crowing morning climbed with blind limb the male moan of a numbered tongue. Night celebraters an anonymous breast beside her as love is hung on the wall.