This morning I was awoken by a bird
singing in the dawn beyond the curtains —
could feel from my heavy head that it was still dark —
and I felt its song transport me across the world, but only partly —
knew not its name with no Arch to teach me —
and I was enchanted and annoyed at the same time —
not wanting to be here, not wanting to be awake,
and not wanting anything to be different —
if you’d told me that I could feel this lonely and this
connected to everything all at once, I’d have not believed you —
a single birdsong singing my sorrow and my joy at the close of something,
and the dawn of something else —
then I was back in bed again with you, but only partly —
the birds your side have more clack, more click, more guttural songs —
don’t they?
I think I remember things as they are but I’m not sure
I think I remember your smell but I’m not sure
I remember how it felt to wake up between sheets with you
always like a dream come true — our sweetnesses entwined —
weren’t they?
I think I remember things as they were but I’m not sure —
over time the memories will discolour and shift,
gain weight in places, lose hair in others —
I wonder — who do you wake up with these days.
do you dream awake.
do the birds narrate your life like they did ours.
are you still waiting for me to come home.
I never thought I could feel this close to everything, and so
alone,
but that’s heartbreak — the bedfellow of love — and a precious thing —
goddamn you gorgeous bird!
I’m undone again and it’s not even dawn —
I’ve been sung to the source of it all
where heartbreak and love and all things are entwined,
and separation is
just
a
word.
