A solitary bird soars
In circles,
Chasing its tail feathers
In a graying sky.
Having no need to preen
Or to bathe,
It plucks out its plumage,
Leaving behind pieces of itself.
Much like we, in parlors,
Shed our skin and nails,
And on the patio leave
A glass of thawing ice.
You punctured an oasis
Into the veranda where, we,
Two humble canals, sat
And watched swaths of clouds.
And I was the solitary bird,
Perched amidst ales and napkins.
Circling around my thoughts,
Preying on their carrions.
