Stork and Crow

Are you my stork, I your crow?
From this distance, I hope.
Are you a solitary bird
With a peculiar gait?
You can commune here in joy or grief
Or quietude by my river bank.

But wait – do you understand?

I need not the rehabilitation
Of my former, fallacious wings
(The restoration
Of breasts newly-budded.)

These aren't scars at all, see.
Do you understand?
Just some residual evidence
Of undercover blessings.

I need not your affirmation
That I am powerful and whole
(Don't waste your words, my darling,
Convincing me of things that I ought know.)

If you're confused by silence,
Disdainful of soil,
Preferring to its wisdom
The vagarious dignities of fearful men,
Or if you are not awestruck by both loins and womb --

If you do not have the courage to meet the giant
With your five dry loaves and two small fish,
Having resolved that they can indeed nourish the world --

If you do not see that our home is carried in whole
On the wings of butterflies, and that it is no less captivating
Or fragile --

If you cannot see and hear and feel clearly
This, what they call shabbier,
but what I know is stronger
self --

If I move my hands
And in the soft space under my arm
(a secret, but unguarded)
You do not recognize the bounty --

Ah, darling, don't fear, I'll still love you.
I'll spread my wings wide and I'll bless you.
But fly on in peace.
I am waiting neither for a teacher nor a pupil
Neither for a mason nor a tool
But for my Stork,
Against whose feathers, mine will be brighter,
And who against my wing, will be more radiant.

When paired together, who knows what could be illuminated?

But if you do recognize, make no sound:
Come, here, quietly.
Sit with me.
Let me feed you,
The best fish you have ever tasted,
Fresh from my most hidden places.

Before we take flight again, together,
Still warm with the miracle that we
are both seeing and being seen so clearly –
And that the energy of this rarest glow
Is healing our earth
More than ever we could know.

Whence we go

I remember when we used to make
Cookie-cutter virgin mothers
Snow angels and fervent promises
Sealed them with a glitter lip-gloss kiss.

Translucent faces and tidy nails
We wore our hair up in Lolita tails.
We used the lunch box to run the shirt
That made the boys want to touch us.

Where did we go?
Where did we go?
I’ve been waiting for the answer
But the postal service has slowed.
So I’ve been biding my time
Over Scotch whisky and legends
Knowing that with every page
We’re slipping further and further and further away.

I’ve known the city and her allure
Her sin-rouge lips refused to be ignored
She sang rock ‘n roll and played the tambourine
She spoke in the language of artist’s dreams.

I read the black market book of spells
I wondered why my heroes went to hell
I’m sorry if I spoiled your plan
The siren song, it shook my steady hand.

Where did we go?
Where did we go?
I’ve been waiting for the answer
But the postal service has slowed.
So I’ve been biding my time
Over stale coffee and theorems
Knowing that with every page
We’re slipping further and further and further away.

I remember we got in trouble when
We used the scissors to cut our bangs
Now no one even notices
Our bandaged wrists and noses.

Where did we go?
Where did we go?
I’ve been waiting for the answer
But the postal service has closed.