You say you have your sights set
on a Wood Duck, incandescent in flight,
jigging like a lure through the thermals.
You jet before dawn, a jarred firefly,
batting the lid with your wings, muting
your taillight in canvas cargoes. You say
you will return before I wake and I roll
to your down pillow, warm and gaunt as
a burlap sack of flour spilling into our bed.
I curl into hypnogogia, knock about
in lucid dreams until I am plucked clean
from the plumage of half-bruised sleep.
from “Decoy” by Erin Ganaway