Category Archives: William Lennertz

BIRD CALLS

Crow’s black feet
click nails across the floor
the sound exactly like
hot water pipes in old walls.
Feathered night hops so light
spread wings would take it aloft
but black-marbled eyes
hold it earth bound.

Sister, it whispers
in your dreams, says
you want for night w/o stars.

Blackbirds in cattails
little pieces of the void
absorb blue sky
reflect no water
no current, no sun
earthbound, even in flight
red chevron-winged lusts
with marble-black bodies.

One whispers in my revery
says I want for red joys bright as stars.

Starling—flecked in nebulae—
is the space between stars
sits on patio chairs
hops beneath tables
where lovers eat outside bistros.
It flaps aloft, speaks of brown earth

weaves words like bodies entwined
whispers constellations for our black nights.