the humming bird

the sky was there — distorted

at the edges

but there

clear crystal blue


his wings burned

his mind locked

he battled the Plexiglas sky


over and again

his head bumped


for an improbable escape


I was afraid

his death

would stain my hands

like black pitch


I saw his obsession

lying to his wings

each invisible beat

bringing him closer


his truth needed to be told

the sky needed to lie


it was up to me

to eclipse the sun



his reality

to a phosphorescent bullet

shooting into a summer’s day