Dissonance — A Poem

Queen Anne's Lace seedhead.jpg

“Seedhead” — C.Birde, 8/19

 

Mumps

at seven;

chronic

childhood

ear infections;

concussions,

(three)

ages eleven, twelve,

and eighteen

(vault,

softball,

and fist,

respectively.)

A head that

brightly rings

in ceaseless,

multi-tiered,

soprano chorus

similar to

(utterly

different

than)

the pulsing

insect trill

of fading

August.

 

— C.Birde, 8/19

Haunts — A Dream

Haunt.png

“Haunt” — C.Birde, 8/19

 

The night is longest when it is sleepless,

the mind crowded with haunts and fury

draped in dark shadow and ominous

as the ghosts of futures-yet-to-be

that point bone-white fingers

from  dream’s dark corner and

leave one breathless,

tongueless,

voiceless,

hopeless

to cry out at the mounting pressure

and injustice of storms and heat

and glaciers’ retreat and rising tides

and seas blooming plastic

and forests denuded and deprived

of creatures great and small,

and all all all

rewritten and twisted and undone

in service to short-term metrics

that measure life elemental

against gains —

immediate,

concrete —

of dollars and cents

as if a blue-green shiny new earth

might be bought and sold and regrown

by stocks and bonds and war and walls

and oil and coal alone. . .

The night is longest when it is sleepless,

interrupted by dreams of ink-writ

skeletal wraiths that inhale

one’s choked-silent pleas of

There!

Right there!

Does no one

see?”

 

— C.Birde, 8/19

 

Betwixt — A Dream

Betwixt

“Betwixt” — C.Birde, 8/19

 

Both here

and there,

without and

within –

the separation obscured

by lace-edged ferns and

tree limbs’curious,

leaf-fingered

reach;

by ivies’ slow

curling growth

up the slim, inarguable

certainty of even-spaced

moss-tarnished,

bars.

Easy

as idle breeze,

careless

as wish.

Encircling spokes

sweep aloft and out of sight,

beyond the guardian-

ship of trees –

one story,

two stories,

three –

a slow curvature

chased,

traced,

defined

by a staircase of

weightless, spiral

filigree.

Within, without;

without,

within…

Come in,

come in.

Don’t hesitate.

Pull back the narrow,

decorative gate–

coil-spring hinges

announce each rare

visitor

and cross the dip

and swell of moss-

carpeted

floor.

A central table blooms

an invitation of china

cups and saucers;

tea-pot, steaming;

a plate of

cake.

Clear a space.

Pull out a chair.

Sit and stay and linger,

breathing,

safely embraced and

enclosed neither here

nor there; without

or within;

both betwixt

and

between.

 

— C.Birde, 8/19

 

 

 

Enervation — A Poem

Curbside.jpg

“Curbside Enervation” — C.Birde, 8/19

 

 

Tempers

and thermals

and solar flares.

Blare of horns

and blacktop’s

creaking heat.

Painted lines

and lines of cars

comprise a gridlock

of intent –

steel and chrome,

flesh and bone;

dismissed,

ignored,

unseen.

Melting

curbside mirage,

dressed in heat-

stirred floral cotton,

she slowly bastes

and enervates

and waits

to cross

the street.

 

 

— C.Birde, 8/19