Sometimes you do not say enough,
Yet do enough to show me you love me.
The quiet girl, who lets me unzip her dress
more than she lets me unzip her mouth
For birds to fly out. Sometimes, robins emerge,
As red as their breasts, like in dirty talk, sometimes you’re as blue
As kingfishers, dropping all your disappointments
on my attentive ears, sometimes you’re like a canary,
Brilliant in your hypotheses of life
And sometimes, as dark as the diabolical crows
When your darker side emerges
With a little bit of your ghostly presence.
Still your best sounds are kept,
For those days when you’re a juke box
Playing a record that I love to listen to
When the nymph metamorphoses to the siren.
And when I’m alone, I try to bring
One of your specters, right next to me,
To make something of your absence,
Like bouncing words over a vacant
Couch seat, where you were, and will be,
And I feed the Avery inside your larynx,
To be entertained with the birds
That fly out, their songs unsettling
Something deep, something that makes
Me want to listen more and more,
Until the song is no more, and the birds
Are resting for the night.