Clay-colored
Is the skin underneath
these lovebirds.
Yet, they boast
Pink, red, brown, blue
Colors of the birds
That may just paint
Me a brand new hue.
Yeah, you’re one of them.
You’re the victim of lying tension
Never honest, seeds
To plant the stem of my brain’s attention.
Oh Lovebird,
You’re coughing up feathers
Of my own design
Still, so still
You sit in the windowsill
Perched, like these words
That just so happen to flow
Off the tongue of my own.
Oh, really? Careful what you say.
That elegant display of affection, she
May fly due south
And forever spilled are your intentions.
So Winter came,
And you said you were cold. In my defense, I was told
The light shines down, but the tree
Will provide shade, no matter the season.
Yet, you are mad. What is the reason?
Winter is here.
I never shy away nor do I show fear.
The light shines down, but the tree
Will explain all of the changing seasons.
Yet, you must leave. What is the reason?
Lovesick, psychotic, my bird, you are.
You made me cry that fateful night
Longing for lust, lusting for life
Lusting for one ride down the tunnel
Into topsy-turvy turmoil.
Lovesick, psychotic, absurd, you are.
I lost you. you took off in spite
For a major flight, one of strife
The flight to ride down the funnel
Into the spill of Louisiana oil.
You’re stuck in slick slime
Forever yours, not once mine.
Fly down the funnel again
And find more of the same thing
In due time.
You’re stuck in grease and grime
Flying no more, through Earth’s wine
You struggle, struggle again.
Wash off in the fountain and sing
“Indeed a fool, am I.”
Artwork: Kristian Zenz
