Legs bent in that dark, clipped
my hand, no totem animal
smacks you on the back of the neck.
You enter the world
pierced among numbers
the open sign
you. Or birds
I address you
blinder, blinded by—but so slow
our shockless eyes. I
mangle the bird to make myself stronger.
in this dark that makes
an aviary bird never sings to the light.
a seeing creature, I eye
you. All bird or you
without feathers to render your name
you, a body all verb
My footprints, they you.
1st, 2nd & bird. George Oppen, arms fraught & square. 4 sides to the frame.