Dirty Birdies
Erika Jo Brown
For my rabbity heart, nervous in the
birches, I enrolled in a class for those
with pain or injury, but it wasn’t
what I expected. A whiffle of light still
flickers by the wharf. Once, I was adopted
by a family of line dancers. When you fall
in love, then you are just down some place.
Consider welding—to unite by heat or
compression, after having been softened.
Consider the silliness of yon weft
without a warp. What a weave we make.
Wether, you are a castrated ram. Whelp,
you are a young pup. Whether introduces
an alternative clause followed by another
alternative or not, or not. Cave paintings
existed during the first ice age. Your problems
are not new, although yes, it is cold in here.
Oh, counterfeit wampum! I saw the sign
and it said—varicose veins demand excellence.
What are your demands? Consider how she
whimpers when you unpeel the sheet music.
Whoop, there it is. The foam-crusted waves
are also known as white horses. Don’t mind
the noise, it’s just birds loosing into the night.
Erika Jo Brown is from New York. She currently lives in Savannah, GA, where she co-curates the Seersucker Shots reading series. Her reviews on contemporary poetry can be found in Jacket2, the Iowa Review, the Kenyon Review, and more. Her chapbook What a Lark! was published by Further Adventures Press in 2011.
