love is for the birds

hawks and northern cardinals,
turkeys and vultures,
skylarks and nightingales,
owls and sympathetic chickens.

Prelutsky's poem nests in my hair,
Tennyson's poem tangles in my beard,
Poe's classic horror poem begins and ends,
Whitman's dalliance dances away in flight.

the department of eagles
murders me more than before,
and I look up to the sky,
as the clouds look down. 

my hope is thirsty,
repented on repeat,
euthanized in the mercy seat,
the peacock in us fondly half-remembers

their song provides a bridge
into the mysteries of a world,
special knowledge,
the metamorphosis of a lover.