“I am the parrot
brought from the sea:” ~ D. Bonta
What are you?
A bridge made through its making,
a sorrow sewn for wings.
A meal composed of fragments,
a vineyard thick with remaindered fruit.
A letter that circumnavigated the globe
to recall what it wanted to say.
A body ordered to leave at the same time
it’s pushed to the ground.
In response to Via Negativa: Poet in public.