Stories, essays and poems read by the author

***

Amelia

Blood-wing blackbird,
deserting again the nest

of spice, to burn,
in the circle of my domain:

the open miles of sky,
my body—and edges

of a stranger’s forged
wings–meeting

at the cusp of dawn,
valves sweetening, a self

making its love
to the self and god

approving. Breath stirred
loose from sheets,

the smell of someone’s
touch. One horizon. Two

stars. No one
listening. Except

you for you, crossing
for the crossing.

by Tania Pryputniewicz