“Enticed” — 11/18
Desired or
not —
sheen and color
call attention,
while thorns
discourage
t
o
u
c
h
.
— C.Birde, 11/18
Enticed — An Image
Reply
Monthly Archives: November 2018
The Swans — A Poem
Four white bodies,
whiter
than Autumn snow;
sleek and blemishless
and smooth
as the far horizon;
extending,
reaching,
stretching,
and –
with each near-silent,
muscular stroke –
beating
brisk air
to cream.
— C.Birde, 11/18
Mistaken Identity — A Dream
Raul?
No. I don’t know any one by that name.
Yes, I’m certain.
Who said that…?
…but I don’t know any Raul…
He said what?
About…me?
Well, that’s embarrassing…
Sure, fine, I guess it’s flattering…a little.
But any way, you must have misheard…
Then he means someone else.
I’m already married.
Fine, fine. I’ll follow you, but only around the corner.
No. This is far enough.
Yes, I can hear him.
…
Good grief…who talks like that? Is he reciting sonnets?
Rhapsodizing? You’re being dramatic…
No, this is close enough.
He can see me just fine… from his pillar…above the crowd…
God. Look at him…
Listen to him…
Listen…
…
What?
No.
No, of course not.
I was not.
That’s ridiculous.
Besides, he doesn’t even recognize me.
I’m not the one he’s talking about.
I’m not the one he means.
I’m not the one.
…
I told you.
— C.Birde, 11/18
Conjuring Light — A Poem
“Conjuration” — C.Birde, 11/18
Light
slips through our
grasp…
Each hour of each day —
paler, thinner,
more threadbare than
its yesterday.
Plumed
in solar flares,
our tongues regale each other
with half-remembered
tales of milder days —
songs of Crow and Centaurus,
and the Great Bear,
of the Herdsman
and his starry flock
spread across the night sky’s
vast backdrop.
Frost-touched,
we’ll pause together
at Winters’ gate and,
reminiscing,
conjure
light.
— C.Birde, 11/18
Separate Waters — A Dream
“Separate Waters” — C.Birde , 11/18
The bridge extends.
Below, to either side,
in frantic haste,
wide waters part.
We stride
in confidence,
reach the midpoint of the span
and cross beyond…
When,
in headlong rush,
the tides return,
frilled with crashing
foam…
His name lodged in my throat,
upon my lips;
in fear,
I cry aloud
for his steadying hand…
Out of reach…
beyond reach…
A fury of water collapses, collides,
consumes my voice, my limbs,
my life.
A thunder of water
separates.
A wall of water
divides.
— C.Birde, 11/18
Pace — An Image
“Orlando, Garden Snail” — C.Birde, 11/18
Snail’s pace —
wonderfully
well suited
to
snail space.
≈
— C.Birde, 11/18
“Spiral” — C.Birde, 11/18
Exhale — A Poem
“Exhale” — C.Birde, 11/18
Each leaf,
a breath
captured,
collected,
Falling,
now fallen
in sweet
exhalation.
A volume of sighs —
oak & maple,
sassafras, linden,
& hickory —
strewn
at
our
feet.
— C.Birde, 11/18
