for Annette
When she was a wolf, she choked on starling bones,
then opened her throat to release an aria
of fully intact birds with indigo wings.
When she was a bird, she flirted with weeping cherry trees
until pink hair bloomed and cascaded posy
into lonely puddles. Tiny fish kissed bubbles
to the breaking point, released the small prisms
glowing inside. The minnow scales brightened
into hallelujah syllables of rainbow trout.
When she was a girl, she caught and released
all manner of orphaned creepy crawlies. Her skinned knees
were strange jewels in an imaginary queendom
where the crickets perched between naked toes;
hummed like itty bitty violins as she sang ditties—
O art and love and vibrant, trembling blades
of grass bedecked with blue impatiens.
O how the ripe pods burst open when touched.
O how the cornflower bruises spread across her chest.
When she was a woman, she ripped open her corset;
bared her moon-white breasts to the wild teeth
that ate their way into the night and frolicked wherever they pleased...
