Joey Cloudy online

As If 

for Robert Trammell

As if the breath of a poet could resurrect the dead

bird silently decomposing in the slate colored street.

The curb ascends, a tombstone for so much road kill;

a squirrel here, a cat there, somebody’s whistling

calling a dog that cannot answer but this mourning

the bird with Verona colored feathers was lying

in the middle of the sidewalk as if he had heard

the wind of a poem and tried once more to rise.