Tuesday, March 26, 2013

were i a hummingbird

were i a hummingbird 
i’d hover,
over earth until guilty verdicts 
reverberated from the laws of gravity; 
(i were sentenced to freedom 
from the day i learned to fly).

were i a hummingbird 
i’d make home 
of your garden, 
(the green and golds of living room, 
steeped in afternoon and iridescence
percolating through the trellis 
to the terrace where you bathed),

were i a hummingbird 
i’d live 
so swiftly you did hear my colors 
writing songs through your lantana. 

were i a hummingbird 
i'd flicker,
into summer and through asia,
like the interweaving lines of your left palm 
and out from every single one of your fingertips. 

were i a hummingbird 
i’d return, 
today, and every today after.

were i a hummingbird 
i'd hope, 
she were hearing,
i'd hope she were seeing
she were smiling ,
i'd hope that she were nearing
i'd hope she were
were i a hummingbird,
(and she would be).


alan said...

(and she would be)

Leif Mieras said...

I'd like to think you would settle a while in my garden, but in completely a literal sense. ;)