800px-Agassiz_statue

And the birds are singing again

When god has no speed
and the Russians were inert,
the sounds ringing in ears cupped on wallsand burning timbers
shot through my chest
like a diamond
pulled from a tooth.

Then the sky fell
and the blossoms grew
and the plagues in our hearts
finally took a night off.

– 5/13/2016

More poetry

Advertisements