My youth was cardinals
red as Renoir kerchiefs afloat on the snow
sea of home. I moved to be the red-winged
blackbird, flashing in flight like Reno
through Tahoe, the lake night a pigeon neck
purple-grey. Adolescence landed light like cockatiel
screech, so I made myself thousand-mile Pacific.
I still write towards toucans’ beaks like peaches,
today I’m the ocean pant, looking up
never as still silver as the pendant, its oneline gull.