Backyard Birding

Magpie eyes steal glances like kisses -
keeps mine trying to shine brighter
in the hopes that you want to line your nest with me
and my soft scar tissue.

It's a game to keep you thinking
that I am gilded and golden and not garbage,
trying to fool your bird heart into treasuring one man's trash.
You're too clever for those games.
I know.


Sapphire ruffling and emerald blinding,
ever hesitant of what these cat claws are able.
I’ll admit that though I've played with fire
I still tremble when you get close.
Prairie storms have nothing on flurries of feathers
Or the chinook arch of your back.