tinfoildresses 2011

Above a Cedar Floor

you were caged in my closet for years, because I loved you

to the point of madness. Barred in, your heart made weak; sweet broken

thing, a tiny sparrow perched on a wooden branch. Forgive

me. I remember each wing raised to a sliver of light in-between

an old robe and worn-out raincoat where half-torn pockets once saved

you from bad weather. Sometimes I opened the door and listened

as you sang your silent song, barely audible but loud enough to push

through imaginary clouds in search of your made-up heaven. Somewhere

over a rainbow, until I could no longer stand it, the staring off, far into