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Birds and Fences
Each alive once
a seed ago;
each tree now a dull diameter,
all branches cut away, their buddings
burrs now in a fence propped
with another, wire fence.
On the tallest
of the trunks' sawcut tops,
a Steller's jay lights, white stroke above
each eye in turn.
He eyes motion through this window--mine
perhaps--
and then we fly
where each might peck apples, peck seed
or scout from sawcut tops
of sentences propped with other,
wire words.
Later Autumn
Apples fall over wall
through lavender. Our neighbor,
tan mongrel saddled with mange,
takes in sun against the wall by crunching
warm apples.
Booth
The warm salmon is eaten,
the warm tea being sipped.
Continuing
is settling,
cushioned, in a crimson booth
whose dimpled backs
grow soft as kiwi-fruit fully peeled;
I sit and lean into
different slices.
I am so ripe I feel bruised.
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