a custard-coloured bird sleeps inside the skull

downy, fat, and warm

& my hands do not move unless

I ask them to move.

The body belongs in the room & I belong in the body

& nothing demands I explain my belonging.

Sparrows spilling through a window,

sights and thoughts arrive & I look at them.

A flotilla of sunlight. A laughter of leaves.

In the quiet, a place becomes real.

objects grow into themselves like bodies

filling a shirt & I notice myself for the first time.

Oh, but the hereness leaves as I push into it.

I love it & think that means it belongs to me.

I won’t chase it down today. I will not ring its neck

& break its slender body across my tongue.

I have demanded so much I am not owed.

I’ll have lunch instead

Drink the tea & make real the moments

it falls into my mouth until they dissolve like air.

I will leave all my windows open!

It is such a beautiful day

The sunlight, so warm and heavy

This, as good a place to wait as any.

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