CONFESSION:

I thought your love had left
or worse, your love had gone
and I do not want to live-
not amongst this loss
accounted for, resolved, and
    echoing -
the future and past wound
    tight -
something seeming suspended, heavily-
    yet

Perhaps not proper perceived
    have I made it all about me?
What if the love: never a lover
    was once there here a bed
bricked in the bedroom it framed
    I couldn't yet see a name
I turned the cover into a wall
    then turned the wall into a tomb.

Perhaps the bird was just a bird
It could have been that winter was here
Perhaps it could have been spring
and I am simply a bird
    seemingly doing my thing
I am simply a bird

Perhaps that sound, that obvious blur
    mightn't have even been mine.
Ignoring the people just pointing at mine.
What is this love - this new land
This strange beast yawning
    divine or damned
Spiraling-

fawning us in - circular eyes
    around again - pleasant as privacy
sucking us in - seeming so gentle
    to last at all - keeping things even
and sucking us in - looking around
    around again - circular skies
a love a bird - sucking us in
    feeling around - feeling complacent
Where have you gone?

What is that, wind?
Speaking so gently,
    perhaps it was wind.
Floating the bird
    soothing the love
Speaking the season
    conceding the bird
Becoming the state
    yawning the blur.
I think it was her.