to sing a name
with feather
silent hands
must gather sound-
a deep note
endless and round,
buried with the quiet
song that has no echo.
one that lacks noise,
with its perfect symmetry
red and untethered.
an ear
drum tunes to rhythm
of heartwood and tide
while the other presses to lips
of sky.
[ and waits for a wind, for that whisper
that draws the moonlight down. ]
this is how a dead bird
hears music
in wing
beat
of other.
Honorable winner
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