VINYL POETRY

Volume 10, July 2014

BIRDIE
Meg DayView Contributor’s Note

Aubade for an Accomplice

No one understands the pit bull
you make of morning, the tender felony
of waking up in a shared bed not shared
with you. No one knows that you dream
of me in my own dreams & witness
my struggle not to lull this sleeping corpse,
or shoe that lifeless horse. I tried again

to chart my departure: bridge or bus or gunfire
out the back of a pickup, the exits passing
like endless escape routes in this wasted race
to do what it takes to stay without staying.

You have my permission not to love me —
you, who have gone where it is always winter
& returned with the salt of stars in your mouth,
your fists full of falling. You can steal me away
instead, a lullaby at the speed of sound. Please:
swing low, Supernova, & come to carry me home.