Blackbird Amore
They manifest like a sprinkling of ash on the dawn,
congregating motes from a far heaven.
They are annunciations in blue black, shimmering
in the young cattails, the wing's red badge
that says, I am of the garrison of joy and I have come,
and I am not Icarus and I am not a barn swallow,
nor am I a disconsolate sparrow with her half-hearted
motet, or the barrio crow clacking for scraps,
or the furtive owl sitting high in the oaks
like a jaded bartender.
I sing Verdi, you sing Mozart. I sing today
and you sing tomorrow.
We are the small and temporal things appearing
in the corner of your eye when you flash past,
warbling in our epaulettes, strafing the marsh
to route the hovercraft of the dragonfly,
trumping the laggard lark with our midair
pirouettes-- ballet rouge in the empire of love.
(from Blackbirds Dance in the Empire of Love, 2013)
