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Special Orders

Poems
Branch Library

I wish I could find that skinny, long-beaked boy
who perched in the branches of the old branch library.

He spent the Sabbath flying between the wobbly stacks
and the flimsy wooden tables on the second floor,

pecking at nuts, nesting in broken spines, scratching
notes under his own corner patch of sky.

I'd give anything to find that birdy boy again
bursting out into the dusky blue afternoon

with his satchel of scrawls and scribbles,
radiating heat, singing with joy.



A Few Encounters With My Face

1
Who is that moonlit stranger staring at me
through the fog of a bathroom mirror

2
Wrinkles form a parenthesis around the eyes
dry wells of sadness at three a.m.

3
The forehead furrows in a scowl
... read full excerpt from: Special Orders ebook