Excerpt from "Heliotrope and Bloodstone"
We have many walks around this time of year.
You and I, we like
the darkness of nature
and the flight of small birds
Some walks, we go along
abandoned crop fields, sometimes
There are always the blackbirds.
We find it funny,
how they scream at us
and tangle themselves in my hair.
You call me the Blackbird girl.
We continue on
throughout these shrapnel torn,
Only the churches,
(their skeletons remaining)
to watch us,
and to watch
pedaling their empty songs.