Pecking the suet
Brandie Trent
Thursday swings neatly,
arching and sinking politely.
You slip lessons into the pockets of my seersucker heart,
and unfold perfectly creased maps.
You show me how to cross boundaries.
I swallow you in bursts,
natural and unashamed.
Young,
all elbows
and eggs unhatched.
You remain faint on my lips,
glossy,
and I am a wren
flitting at the old man's window feeder.
Pecking the suet.
Pecking.
I have feathered my nest
with scraps of your smile
and strands of your yellow hair.
Come rest with me.
Come dance with me in the sky.
arching and sinking politely.
You slip lessons into the pockets of my seersucker heart,
and unfold perfectly creased maps.
You show me how to cross boundaries.
I swallow you in bursts,
natural and unashamed.
Young,
all elbows
and eggs unhatched.
You remain faint on my lips,
glossy,
and I am a wren
flitting at the old man's window feeder.
Pecking the suet.
Pecking.
I have feathered my nest
with scraps of your smile
and strands of your yellow hair.
Come rest with me.
Come dance with me in the sky.