bird call

i use my fingers for dead trumpets. do you remember
when you tried to sew me a pair of wings?
your sewing machine in the living room. bowls fall
from top shelves. the birds are talking, love, are you
listening? they tear pages from bibles. i want
you to crave me like a mourning dove. i carry a nest
in my mouth, waiting. i do not want you to come home anymore.
you never finished the wings. instead we bought 
a doorbell & hung it from a great oak. do you remember
collecting my feathers? i remember you carving hollows
in the dry wall & saying, "you can sleep here tonight."
the finches do not forget. geese make the sky a movie screen.

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