Underneath bedcovers a bird
Nibbles at the sheets,
Coo-mumbling its delight
In freedom of loose confines,
The kind if unwitting finger
Snapped at as though blind
To needs of such fervent play.
With the watercolor painting
Hung on the wall,
Rocks of various sizes
Laze across one another,
Like elephant seals
Sprawled along the beach
In easy caresses, slopping sand
Over their blubbery bodies
By way of round-housing flippers.
She dares to snuggle next to me
As I dare to snuggle next to her,
Our crooks and curves fitting
—Despite reticence born
Of condor wounds inflicted
Long ago by these, our families’,
Identical & vastly different pets—
All this while the bird
Grows anxious between us,
The sheets now peppered
With little tears,
Lo, those rocks
Have enough weight
Not to flee
From the canvas,
Same as admitting
From one another,
Which would surely mean
Rolling back down the beach
Into frothing surf,
Inevitably, for the low, low fathoms
Of an inky ocean.
Publishing by NEBO: A Literary Journal