She's back, if only briefly.

Bird at Night

I

The strangled cry of the night bird
And the footsteps of leaves in the air

A dot of sound in a voided sky
Where lights obscure smaller, greater lights
And over-saturate the eyes.

The solitary cry of the night bird
Like a canopy thrown over the dark
I know this bird but not the sound
I know this sound but not the bird
As each pins each upon the sky

There is a sea into which we
Throw out doubts to sound them out
To judge the splash
And measure the ripple
And despair that there is neither

II

I look down upon the sky
And see myself
A point reflected
I long to burst into flame

The air is cold and the shore is far,
I wonder what a falling stone feels,
To pass from sky to reflected sky
And look up upon the water
And see again the voided sky
Unblemished

I scream, I squawk a two-tone prayer
Fold and burn my feathered hands
But the wind is deaf and I am stranded.
I cannot see the shore.

O I wish, I wish
I wish I were a fish

III

I look out of empty pages
In the vast room laid with books
And ask, like the crab,
"Do I dare disturb the Universe"
The answer echoes:
"No.
Skipping stones is a game
For boys."

With the cry of the night bird
I am chased by the footsteps
To the sea,
And strangled, curse the calm sky.