Grey Goose and Grim Grins

Grey Goose and Grim Grins

I saw a mockingbird
crack a joke
morning. She dipped
her wing
into my coffee–
hot wings.
I heard
my daughter’s voice
singing through
dappled feathers.
And the wren
that I, like my daughter,
can weave
nooses with the cusps
of my split-ends,
cut into cords. I
can carry
upward to the draft
floating the wren
where the
ropes wrap
than lightning.

First Published with Jet Fuel Review

2 thoughts on “Grey Goose and Grim Grins

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