February 4 -- Kathleen McClung

Behind the White Bird

     after Tatiana Lyskova’s painting, “White Bird,” 2008

 

Which one of us

holds tighter—you,

timid cockatiel, tall

as a snowman, crown

of green tendrils

curving above our heads?

 

Or me,

ruby red party dress

spraying past

my hairless thighs

into our kaleidoscope

of a room?

 

Entranced, claw

to wrist, I give you

a secret name,

whisper into your ear

a charm, a promise

I will break.

 

One palm

sinks in feathers,

the other, chiffon.

My lips, for now, press

only your white pillow skull.

We do not fly or sing.

 

 Previously published in Ekphrasis, Fall/Winter 2013

“White Bird” may be viewed at www.tatianalyskova.com

 

Kathleen McClung is the author of Almost the Rowboat (Finishing Line Press, 2013) and her award-winning work appears widely in journals and anthologies. She teaches at Skyline College and the Writing Salon and serves as judge for the sonnet category of the Soul-Making Keats literary competition. A native of California, she lives in San Francisco. www.kathleenmcclung.com