2 September 2003 | Vol. 3, No. 3

The Birdkeepers

When Lisa falls to Anneke falling in Lisa

songs assimilate an auburn cup:

martins are privy to glass, to burn

further in the quivering arrow.

Lisa calls this the taxi in adolescent

repose, but Anneke is swift to argue

such acorns tumble forward on the asphalt

without knowing Parisian static and the long

twilight grumbling of distant mortar. Home:

only a shadow Anneke demands of inner

virginals near Lisa's quiet axis. Lisa