my brother's wife

he calls to tell me
"i'm married now."
we are urgent people.
runaway wedding kind
of people. i get in the car.
drive over a heavy orange moon.
i know something is wrong.
when i get to his house
the door is a ring of fire.
i duck to pass through.
standing on the neck
of the kitchen sink faucet
is a bird. 
he says, "this is my wife."
she is a wren i think 
or else some other kind 
of escaped star.
i am worried for him.
the little bird makes us
pancakes. the door flames swell
& i dab sweat from my face.
he says, "we are so happy."
the fridge door makes
a kissing sound as it opens.
she eats worms from
the palm of his hand while 
our forks scrap across
the syrup-drenched plates.
i want to ask him what he means
by all of this. she is 
a bird. how did they meet?
does he plan to become
a bird too? i do not ask
any of these questions.
we are also people of 
the most laden silences. 
skipped stones. she whistles 
from her perch. i feel panicked.
i open all the windows 
in the house. he says,
"what are you doing?"
i shout to her. i say,
"go! get out!" she takes
the first opening. lingers
on the sill for a moment 
& then break into flight.
my brother is furious. 
the fire enters the kitchen.
smoke stampedes. i get out
the window too. i tell him
over & over that i am sorry
even though i'm not sure
if i am. i am worried that
i do not know him anymore.
his little captured wife.
he laments, "it's going to take forever
for me to get her back."
how do you to tell someone,
"i want you to be happy."
i should not have opened
the windows. fed the fire
the world's air. i see her singing everywhere.
my brother's wife, with her brown feathers
& her penny-colored mouth. 
he looks for her. i see him too.
standing in a tree. perched 
on the orange moon. hand full
of writhing worms.