Who cares
about the shoes,
the dress you wore that night
under a moonless sky before
it rained.

Ducklings
waterproof their
feathers before they swim
across the pond. My reflection
would sink.

The song
of another
bird on another day
plays in my head on repeat. Can’t
mute it.

Liquid
lullabies lure
the lace from the hem line.
Who knows where the bulrushes will
go next.

Back to
that dress you wore
so well. What can I say
to convince you it’s great to be
alive?