If I Forgive You
       

Red blur of cardinal,
red flurry, red

something in the corner of my eye—
I didn't peg you as a killer

of moths
morning stalker of the loner

who stayed too long
whose ecru, almost translucent self

hugs the incandescent heat
of the porch light.

Gorgeous one,
red beyond belief one,

who imitates the hummingbird
standing still in midair

through a trickery of wings,
your thrum quickens my morning—

your scarlet flush
your fluorescent protection

an epiphany of sorts—
designed

to find a mate, procreate
and now you are here

problem-solving for their hunger—
it's not your fault,

it's how I see you
in this light, in this moment

before you shapeshift
back to bird.

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Copyright © 2018 Cindy Veach All rights reserved
from Gloved Against Blood
CavanKerry Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission