Saturday, June 16, 2007

Starling

Wings gleaming
like the slick oiled
lids of a woman’s eyes
in an empty bar.
Everyone and
no one at once.

If you stand still
enough in the sun
it will come,
vain brother to the
crow, blue simmer
of feathers,
landing oh so delicately
to grasp at your
spread thumb
and peck
whatever you
offer from your palm.

4 comments:

Radish King said...

Oh god, these poems are so good. There is something vibrant in here, an emerging voice. Are they new work?

Christine said...

Thanks! The last three are new. The sarah one is about 6 months old, but it's been reworked extensively. I've been reading some different poets (an a lot of Plath), which might account for the change.

Valerie Loveland said...

I've been obsessed with Starlings since one got stuck in our wall.

I like this one.

Christine said...

Thanks, Val. This is part of the St. Claire series. She's got a thing about starlings and irises.