Write About an Empty Birdcage

“Watch me become a backward image- sequence
in a better movie. Here, the broken glass moves from the carpet
where it is embedded, piece by piece back to its original form on the bedside
table. While night moonwalks to morning, watch bits of seeds
blow against the wind to nestle back on their dandelions.”

Oh goodness, my dear Elaina. I am held gently within the pages of this book.