***and what did you taste
to suddenly understand
the language of the birds
by Miriam Sanger
dragon’s blood
from the edge of your sword
or your own
red
external
from a loose tooth
or bloodied nose
after you crashed
through the privet hedge
and went head over
handlebars
on the new bike
you’d forgotten how to brake
on
viscous
between the legs
forbidden, but...
calendrical
or smeared to the knees
in childbed
this humor you must have put yourself in
before the crow
in the parking lot
cocked its intelligent head
and told you
weather was running in
from the west.
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