I. Avis Amor
Crystalled, tempered blue serves underfoot
like an ocean abyss brought to surface.
Tiny glass pieces mapped the land like
The magenta heaven swirled
in euphoric clouds that yawned
for miles like old ancestors visiting
in the sky. They stretched and spiraled
into deeper plum spheres and pink orbs.
This was the world inside the tear,
an alien flatland of winter feigned.
I walked across the black diamond
seeing nothing but a vast horizon,
a thin line between the pink and blue.
I turned my head as I heard wings beating,
coarsely smacking the air. With a steady pace,
the wings seemed to materialize from nowhere
and the bird came flying to my sight.
The bird landed on my left shoulder,
squatting lubberly, its feathers ashy black
and lacking the gloss of a healthy sheen.
It was neither crow nor raven, but a fat
and filthy dove.
Its head moved side to side,
as if curiously inspecting the land.
Prune shears gouged my skin,
firmly seizing like sharp clasps.
“What are you to do today?” it squawked
and twittered , placing its beak on my left lobe.
“What are you to do today?” Its needle beak
pecked my flesh.
My eyes twitched like fish in a bowl,
it’s presence surprised me as a specter
emerging behooved and clawed on a
dark dance floor, and I wondered,
What am I to do today?
--Michael Aaron Casares is the editor of Carcinogenic Poetry and owns/operates Virgogray Press, an indie press working out of Austin, TX that specializes in poetry chapbooks and anthologies. His work has appeared in several recent online and print publications. He has authored four collections of poetry with Virgogray, New Polish Beat and Shadow Archer Press. Michael also paints; his work can be seen at the Calcasieu Gallery and other venues in San Antonio, TX.