• I saw your neck tremble as you laughed.
    Bird-like.
    Fluttering between stutter and choking.
    I made you smile,
    and physics has nothing to do with this conversation,
    so I smiled, too.
    Two birds leaping at our throats.

    There are cranes in Japan
    that dance for each other,
    saying with every step that they’re in love.
    They throw things in the air and call to each other,
    beaks pointing towards the sun,
    trumpeting love songs.
    These cranes mate for life,
    and every year they travel hundreds of miles together
    to perform their ballet in the snow.

    I tried to catch a sparrow once,
    lured it close with sunflower seeds,
    and was very, very still
    until it trusted me.
    It was so close,
    I could see its heart beating,
    vibrating across its feathers and toes,
    like something was dancing over its skin.
    I reached out,
    but wasn’t fast enough
    to stop the two-step of its perfect upbeats and downbeats
    as it flew away, a liar.

    It never trusted me;
    not that I blame it.

    Just like I won’t blame you
    if this freaks you out.
    I try to be subtle,
    but subtlety isn’t very effective
    for anything but confusing people.
    So, I’ll stop sending mixed messages,
    stop trying to use you like a few bars of sonata,
    or the beating heart of conga drums.
    You don’t deserve me.
    You could find someone so much better.

    You are a glass violin,
    and I have been trying to convince myself
    that I could be a bow.
    I stole one of your poems,
    and as I read, it was snowing in Japan
    while the cranes stepped harmony
    to the three-quarters time of my breathing.
    Gave it back without saying anything,
    smiling like I didn’t have to keep singing to survive,
    and watched your pulse beating
    in time with my silent,

    I shouldn’t be letting myself
    have a crush on you.
    Should crush this sunflower feeling
    and throw it out
    with the broken birdfeeder.
    But I won’t
    because you deserve someone
    so much better than I am,
    and knowing that doesn’t stop me
    from wanting to try anyway.

    It may be cliché to use avian imagery,
    but it’s true
    that there is nothing else you could be.
    If all the world were cats and dogs,
    you would be a starling
    because you’re just like that;
    different and charming,
    and I think you deserve to know
    that I wanted to touch your throat,
    to feel the wings against my lips,
    like the sparrow who was smart enough to know
    that I am not good at holding fragile things.