Study
in Threes by Emma Ramey
My hand around a stone, a dead bird.
Different days.
A lover’s hand, his feminine hand.
A stone, a lover, hand in hand—scratch that—
A dead bird, a lover, hand in hand.
Handsome, yes, the square jaw, the delicate beak—
Dead, a dead bird
on the ground, in the ground
a lover, an empty—
Stone, a stone, in the hand of a lover,
handed to a bird,
its beak the hand. The delicate touch.
A dead bird overhead—no—
Not that. A bird, a bird,
in my hand, a heart,
I know the heart,
even of a dead bird, a lover,
hand on stone.