Birch
The one birch
outside my window
eyesore white
of a dismembered species
the poet relates to the shade
of ice birches
every painful morning light
in a wintry gaze
as a sparrow’s colorless wing
flies in the invisible air
locked in crystal vines
hiding a skeletal limb
of an ivory flooded tree
the sunshine dismembers
any brief memory
of a seasoned refugee.
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