hummingbirds – by Christopher Robey

When

I came to bed

late, you stirred.

Your limbs reached

and snagged mine

drew me in,

pulled me

close

 

Tangled

beneath the quilts

we were

warm

 

Half

asleep, you

murmured how

are you? meaning

where had

my mind

been

 

I said

I was fine, just tired

I didn’t tell you of the

two hummingbirds

I’d seen that

morning

 

Their bright

bodies livened

the concrete near

the glass door

that shattered

them

 

One’s head

was caved in, and

a snail had nestled in the

hollow that formed

The other, smaller

but intact lay

belly-up like

a leaf

 

A pair

of yellow jackets

orbited the corpse

One landed to lay

its eggs while the

other hovered

nearby

 

Since then

I’d been wondering:

 

would they have seen

their reflection

in the glass, and

could they have known

what perfect nests

they would

 

make?