Room

After it came in like a dark bird

Out of the snow, barely whistling

The notes father, mother, child,

It was hard to say what made us happiest.

 

Seeing the branches where it had learned

To stir the air? The air that opened

Without fear? Just the branches

And us in a room of wild things?

 

Like a shapeless flame, it flew

A dozen times around the room.

And, in a wink, a dozen more.

Into the wall, the window, the door.

 

You said the world turns to parts.

You said the parts are cunning spheres.

You said you always love the face of sin.

You said it’s here, the lips and eyes and skin.

 

Outside the snow deepened

With heaves of discontent.

Inside, the tremor of our life

Flew in and in and in.