Lightly, quickly, soft, a bird song climbs the sky as day begins. I listen---it is gone. It seemed to stop only because I listened.

The moon was perched
like a golden hawk on the mango tree.
I knew the moon was like me---in heat,
crazed and hunting.
So I climbed up there with that wild old gal thinking:
two drunk beauties like us will surely
snag you with our eyes...