A ruby throated hummingbird’s heart
beats up to 1200 times per minute,
that’s 20 supersonic beats per second.

Black marble eyes take up
much of her head and
bear the technological distinction
of telescopic fovea.

These extra muscles magnify
the center of her vision field-
a fine accessory to motorized wings,
mathematical cognition
and godly reaction time.

Cats with missing tufts of fur,
predators with hinged jaws,
bored and entitled children,
ice box heart scientists
all desperate for a specimen,
all swooning over lunch;

They don’t even bother with
trying to catch her-
their saliva sullied mouths gape
like traps as they clamp to catch
a rare miraculous glimpse of her
sipping on a blue-glazed red rhododendron

before she flits away like a springtime apparition.

Her bones are fused and hollow,
they are knitted in layers
like macrame.

Her rib cage, reinforced
and hinged together like
an early relic of the industrial age.

Even so,
her skeleton only makes up about
five percent of her body mass.

The majority of her weight is
in her clamp like legs,
and disproportionate brain.

These anchor her like chains to the

milk stout pine and crackling skin fir,
and the honeysuckle.

Which is glorious, clumsy and ornate
like crumpled up tissue
stuck to an evergreen tapestry
with dripping yellow syrup.

Locked up like a prisoner
beneath the high pitched
song of the earth in mourning
and the indiscriminate tactical guillotine
of geometry-

The wisdom of which
she shares only with bees
the dying,
and carapaced ants.


3 thoughts on “Avian

  1. My suggestion for the day: watch out for macrame. It was on your mind at one time or the other. This is a problem I have as well. Sometimes I see something and it drips into my writing later. Jan would say, “So what?” But I say, I don’t like the repeat. It is hard. My thing is “falling” and “regret” and “searching for eyes like mine”. Get rid of it. Move on. I know one poet that must have put “marble” in ten poems. Of course, each worked, yet, it was marble this and marble that. Otherwise, I really liked this poem. You have a take on nature that shows the gentle deterioration of life. I prefer that to the lion hunt and the baby Zebra thrashing around.

    Liked by 2 people

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