The Birth of Maire

i. spirare

before i knew blindness

like this

comely

rhythmic

and mournful

caring

only for the

pulse

for the drum

the drummer

bodhran

i used to take

the time

to count in sevens

when all i could see

was there

simply

my love

the color of your eyes is red

ii. ludi

if you think

there was anything

innocent

about the way i

traded myself out

for words

fragile

and fragments

of vigorous color

hanging

half-moon

suspended lithe

and

moblie

my knucklebones

are too smooth

for sport

if they were dry

and flat

perfect like chaff and silk

i would be left over

left whole

skeletal

with only myself

and my eyes a bloodshot red

iii. ad infinitum

the time for

c-sharp minor

steely

braided

taut and useless

is over

my swan

wear that ring

around your neck

like a warrior

gold

glass

pride or

polished

sanguine

bronze

a color very much like red