Valentine with broken birds

Enclosed find pieces of the starling flown flat
against my window, that flimflam invisible too
vivid to enter. They don't go back there,
the killdeer, not the swallows and not the rooks,
not the sparrows or the run-and-pause plover,
neither the red birds nor the red cinderellas.
Enter here the courtyard of hollow-boned wings.
Place your clavicle, a mandible, behind the parchment:
a shadow pterodactyl posts there.

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Copyright © 2011 Joni Wallace All rights reserved
from Crazyhorse
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