written By
after John Freeman
A black-headed grosbeak
chitters from the makeshift
shelter of our glass table.
Sunlight bends and breaks
against the dewy surface
as the still wet lips of grass
dampen our sandaled feet.
He’s been separated from
his family, you tell me. His
mother watches like a sniper
waiting to pull the trigger
on his extraction. Let’s go in,
you say, your hand
grazing my abdomen.
She won’t expose herself
to the danger we present.
