Impossible Motel Room 1A
We face one another on either side of a motel bed. You remove your dress, the black fringed one you wear without irony to weddings, and a host of sparrows exits from the space between your breasts. They swirl about the room until I remove my shirt, nesting inside the hollow of my chest and padding it with wool from the comforter. A chorus of trills sounds from inside me, resonating through the bed between us and filling you with birdsong.