grumpy poem.

The cold air rankles at my skin
but my whole blood resents it.
I drank gin for the first time tonight
and liked it plenty,
but I wanted the big
body you have instead
missing its odors and blessings.
The birds are still
as pilcrows on the trees
waiting for the signal
that steels the whole school for the southward stretch.
I wanted to be
a limber being mewling
through the air. A split tailed tern
rasping through space.
But I’m a bound pouched blooded girl
who is losing her patience.