1.
The mallard that hugs the edge of the pond
her young making sleepy
heaps like a pile of old pillows
bent and greasy
with use
and her wide awake
the stripe of purple on her wing
for my heavy eyelid
for the flicker of dark thoughts
2.
The soft white curve of the mushroom cap
kicked up overturned
for the porous slope
of my breast
its musky gills for the frills the furbelows
the wet morsel that is your ear
in this colony of similar individuals
3.
The beat and rustle and fall of aspen leaves
into scraps of pale parchment
into dust
on the mulch path
for the scales of skin in the few fine hairs
that yellow your scalp
for the flutter of hunger of thought
through your fontanel
4.
The gull that hovers over the silver
of its rain-blown reflection
then gives one two pulses of its wings
for the cilia beat of lashes over
the image of my face
in the wet of your eyes
as you wake
5.
The thunderstorm blat
the splat of rain on the windshield
the outline dripping indistinct
after weeks of drought
for my swollen areola still streaming milk
the moment after
you wrench your head away
6.
The warm round bales of hay
among the stubble of cleared
and smoking fields
for the cheeks deposited
between the bones the fine hairs of your face
for the vapour from your mouth
in the coolness of the car
6.
The heave and groan of pipes
the inhale and hold
of the furnace before it turns on
for the interrogation
of your wet wakeful sigh
before the skin around your eyes
puckers goes red
ariel gordon
