Solo Act

The moon, the moon put the screws to me

and shut me up. The phoebe trained me

to flutter from the cliff side,

a berry in my beak. No want in me

then, or human friend. I took

instruction from the dolphin: 

nodded, grinned, skittered

backward across water.

A man can step from his life

as if from a bus, can settle

for thistle and bird song, wistful

safe elucidations of beauty. 

Not for me to bleed

on the razor-wire; fox-like

I crept, would father

no daughter, hazard no son—O

son, I did not mean to lug

love to where you could not live.

Come out with your candle,

lean your ladder

against my branch, lift

a crumb in your cupped hand,

I’m hungry, hungry

enough, I think, at last,

to be defenseless against you.