A Bird, a Boyfriend

in featherless flight

you left

a brood of windows

blind to beg

for faces

as lubricious surfaces do

in glassy grief they squeeze my room

made brick balloon

& without a bribe

I feel a burst might come soon

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Rose Jam

With knees foam-sheathed she pins the brown soil unwilling body of earth until sundown it’s hers the grandmother, mother, widow whisperer to the world beneath her, families of spiders scurry and ants

© Brad Cohen 2020