October Poem 1: Knitted in Sparrow’s Breath

The heartland of the hidden faces in

That unearthly color. Was it so strange?

A slight hint of orange? Their skin matched by

Pale yellowed people of sepia photographs?


In those days of smoking flights, Delta trips

In your lungs. Gravity pulled together

Only two. Again, the command pouring

Through windows. Packed in their own acts of creation.


She looked happier with her hair pulled back,

Tied back to her silvered silhouette of

White water floating in on whispering

Clouds of mourning, sending bodily vibrations.


Placing events in time, you begin to

Wonder if it really happened. It was

The movement, flapping wings and sparrow’s breath.

To create a narrative. Feel the pain. The loss.

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