Pax, Fortuna, Salus
You took the auspices of my neck
and my dark eyes, watched me pry apart
a hollow bone. Outside, under
the fluttering streetlights, the girls
fingered their collars, touched each other
with quick, disappointed hands
like mockingbirds picking through
a burned plain. This night last year
you laid a fire beneath my mantle
and when we brought it to the black yard
it guttered in the air. There are
no places for you that he hasn’t
first touched. There are your hands
in the back room, instructing
your birds for their flight.
When we met, you coiled up my long hair,
you pushed your lips against my neck. Inviso aves,
you said. Build me my nest.