his backache groans
as fate & conscience
readjust, settle
their weight
on the balance
of his shoulders,
& tendril secrets
in gilded strands
to a whirring spool
between sharp ears.
when he listens
he cocks his head
forward, so he can
see the circumference
of your words
before they land.
he is two steps back
& eagle eyed.
he is one great
leap ahead.
on seat-edges
in red dark
we strain forward
ears, eyes eager
open wide, wide
for the spring song
of a small brown bird.
perched on stage,
perched on one
leg, the other
trying to launch her
skyward with every
takeoff note.
but the weight
of her words is more
than just heavy.
the coo and tremble
in her hollow bones
take us too close to the
sun for wax wings
& the curtains
of her face.
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