Night to Her Birds

on a black piece of paper

more shades of black

gliding, a stream on a map

the doodles, shapes of dreams

in quiet words

float, my traveling birds,

this February canvas

is yours, say the formidable

clouds

eyes of stars, blind

as dyed red hair, a veil

behind a grotto of gloom-

illuminate as I walk

a friend’s house calling

a studio apartment above

a Cape Air office,

eight college kids, a stray cat,

I notice north-south spanning

as if a flag bleached

underneath

as dark red and gray red

conflict for a muse

the birds in unison in a strange voice

call for a hope of a home

they will chase all their life,

with a night running after them,

the mother pleads: stay

I walk inside an aroma down

a stairway, late night curry,

my ears still ringing of that

strange call. A night to her

birds, hope you find what

you’re leaving me for