Member Poem

You know, the first goddamn

noise I heard this morning was the

bird, clamoring at dawn as it

broke over them, dribbling yellow

like a slow-frying yolk

into the grey and lavender night.

I disliked it.

Not as intolerable as hatred, that

grating layered harshness,

metal scraping metal, birdthroat

feathers catching dull silver and

spark, but. Goddamn.

I put the pillow over my head

and fell back asleep, mind

glassed with opalite eggs

and shards of noise.