The sky is turbofanned, but I see you
alight a dead twig in the apple tree
as I awake. Your wings disturb the blue
arcade where petaltail activity
connects the unseen dots in summer wind,
delineating air that combs across
the feathery hair of clover, whisper-thinned
along the treeline prequel to a toss
at dawning afternoon.
You bring the sun
and demonstrate a marble in your wings,
a crystal reckoning at apex. Gun-
grey racquets twitch until the engine sings
and jostles the subalterns, the soubrettes
and grunts of August, to their fighter jets.
by Rick Mullen
Rick Mullin's chapbook, Aquinas Flinched was published by Modern Metrics in 2008. His poems have recently appeared in 14X14, The Bare Foot Muse, Umbrella, Bumbershoot, Shit Creek Review and The Chimera. Visit Rick's blogspot Waiting for Cassowary at http://cassowary.wordpress.com/
© 2008 Rick Mullen
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