Command center of the coldest birds

when you hand weather designs
unpinned from the exit emergency
to the furnace
dumb with fire
the soap skinned
smell after sex
when you pinch
the eyes shut with salt
pin lines of wild fern
to the front of your shirt
scrutinized chatter
of migration patterns
when you swill the gas
and warm tea
leaving the smells
of childhood
piss-water draining
the tub color with it
the view from the thinnest
branch is what snaps
back to you now–a file
in the bars, dials all
cranked right
to crackling
a phone-like
trill in the beak
sea crashes
frozen beyond

Front page image by Macroscopic Solutions.

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