Free Bird

She arrives and assumes her usual station

this woman of no particular inclination

other than to fan the air with soft wings


She unpacks with precision and lays out her things

next to mine and for less than a week she just is

a tangible thread in my existence.


While loose am I in my expectations of her

that first stoop into her waters so sublime

divines the lines of firmament and earth.


And when it seems harlequined fish are in my grasp

then she vanishes like she never existed

within the dreamless time between my sheets.


Yet when I awake in a chasm, deep as a volcano

she is everywhere like small feathers in air

And I struggle to breathe.


Artwork Amy Rose Gibson


©Talia Hardy 2104


9 thoughts on “Free Bird

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