She came back from where

she had wandered

through twisted trees

with the scent of an orchard

on her breath.

She showed me a tongue

stained with crushed berries

unseen black birds

had planted in her thoughts.

No matter how hard I tried

to chase the black birds away,

her pupils widened

to let them back in,

her palms opened upward

to release their ashen forms

into the cold night air.


Contents Next Poem Published Works