Tropic Troping Bird

by Stephen Massimilla


My world is each changeling
stroke, a god’s

blue breath. Where clutches end,
nothing much to grasp.

My skin shines
like melted pennies.

That’s how the light is on watch.
Eternity is incremental. A mouthto-

trough existence is simple.
Our regard for each other a series

of seconds raring
to stare and stare. Narcissistic?

Not for me to say. All is blood gain,
fib by fib. I wonder, hot-bladed “loon,”

are you one such bit of marginalia,
a pattern of foxfire scat strewn

wherever I turn? Love of pleasure wakes
you, copper-steeped,

startled with disgust.


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