VOLLEYBALL POEM I: MASCOT


A blue bird—a sudden bird with a neck
firmly anchored between the shoulder blades,
so that no dumb twitching from side
to side exists—is prostrate in a fine bed
prickly and studded with antique white,
and together cot and bird are rambling
on a float trip along the viscera, slats
careening into the intestinal wall and
dislodging the bird from a birdbed dream,
fussing as its eyes rejoin the current
as bears will bristle when stroked
out of caves, and flaps its wings,
and shifts over on its side many times,
pulling tight the birdlinens over its breast,
to shut one eye, and twitter, and intone,
one song relishing the human cavity
as a mouth is slaked by the cold of its own
tongue: Wake up Dakotah, it is time
to play volleyball.

Girl with a volleyball.