Meadowlark \ Uncertain

Nancy: It’s a skill I’ve probably lost – the soft touch, the yielding feel of the bark as it loosens, ready to slip.  So no, I won’t be stepping out the door into the birdsong and whistling back.

Meadowlark

bright song

bright bird

on a fencepost

Time to whistle

when the sap rises

when the willow greens

Time to remember

man sitting on the back steps

his hands moving slowly

He raps the willow twig

with the back of his pocketknife

round and round

That's how you make a whistle

with love, slowly

carefully

bright sound

willow whistle

girl swinging in a tree

Alan: On a day when we were both in an in-between state, all I could do was keep moving.

Uncertain

While you were lying unconscious

I was planning my meals.

While you were being cut open,

the raddled part discarded,

I was sweeping the floors.

While you were getting fitted

with the new,

sleek as a bike frame built into you,

centaur of bone and alloy,

I was dusting, I was staring

out the window.

While you were in Recovery,

fogged, uncertain,

out of reach,

while I was waiting for the call,

while I was waiting

my heart and my stomach

arguing over too small a space