BIRDFEEDERS

Consider what you will find in the black garden
W.S. Merwin

I attacked on the northern slope of our hills

when we both were starving openly

you sampled a walnut and laughed

abundance is a relative term

how decadent I thought and went silent

watching you pick a suitable style

of ice for dinner caused me to snap

I hauled your body home

A bundle of  February leaves in pocket

I sucked them as I walked my brown

dress heavy and dark at the hems

along brambles I'd fastened you to

my old wicker chair with twine

the snowball I landed on your face

boasted a truly immaculate arch

which I ate up with my approach

flashing whittled skin through the fog

of knowing you were dead

Run your fingers along this row of bone

you chanted

it tickles like filling up

on the whimpered noise

of too much aching

Cardinals worked dangerously close

to where I wrapped you 

in the chilled folds of my dress 

they gorged on thistle seeds until

their beaks broke

my palm figured the shape of your knee

I crouched beside you licking snow from

the seams of your jacket and tore

bits of cloth to stop my ears with

to stop my eyes