Today's poem is by A. E. Watkins
No Narrative
A paradise forecloses once an apertureno narrative but trees
are saying birds between them. Sun through green leaves like greenstained glassa bright room, the birds spoken in through
a windowtranslating between twoweathers: the birds as captives or portents.
The forest and feathered currentscoursing its chambers; what to think
of open doors, the emptied sanctuary Your trillinglingers the rafters now branching several scenes.
No narrative but birds on wires humming betweenpoleslining the streetfront doors and absence cut in each
tree to let wires through: an entrance by whicha blood-thick night can pass.
The birds with beaks pulled to breasts, their small claws claspa wilderness humming sun-lit rooms and flitting.
Copyright © 2009 A. E. Watkins All rights reserved
from Copper Nickel
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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