I never thought it possible to fall
so many times, to startle like
a new blue pulse against
the rifts between—
I never knew how thin the milk
of absence or how the tunic
rubbed its velvet raw—
I never knew the hungry
hummingbird
could press its breast
(light, feathered)
to the metal flamingo—
[LAG-signature date=”08 19 2011″ url=”http://morningporch.com/2011/08/19/159121952″]