In the dark, she shivers in his arms,
hurt, wild-like that great bird
that crashed through the living room window
last Christmas-droppings, slivers
the whole way into the kitchen.
He’d cradled it wearing gardening gloves,
it only shuddered. Now, nothing he says
quiets her, stops her asking:
am i pretty? am i smart? am i all
you dreamed of? as though she
(
Read more... )