Sagittiferous art the avifauna,
can't glide far, but surely wanna.
Tangled feather's, scelidated
detainees; with class they pass
in the morning breeze. Like them
I need a raceme to rest mine head,
None ichnograms to follow; for I
reach out in this hall of death,
waiting for ones life-giving
breath, a fain swain seeking
strange, curiousness. O' how
a morning kiss I do miss.
© Brandon nagley
© Lonesome poets poetry