Detoxification

Poem by Natasha Bredle

Words of poetry marinate our lips, yet 

the ears of crows filter us out, abiding only 

to the roars of traffic, silver shouts 

emphasized by siren calls coming from all directions

taking root deep in the core.

But through our words we yank out these weeds

a soulful 

detoxification 

while the crows above laugh until 

they choke on overused grit. 

They fly but my love, they fly only in circles 

kept afloat by wind too high to catch 

drifts of flower sweetness, honeyed candle warmth 

that drips from our tongues as we recycle 

ancestral reassurance 

this is our sanctuary this is 

how we live, how we fly

so my love, part from the crows with me 

and let us sojourn until we reach a patchwork sky 

unsaturated by their tar-soaked forms. 

Words of poetry marinate our lips and we will sing

to paint the air in coats of elusive color 

so our fateful wishes may be dispersed by the wind.