Aeolian Skinner ~ Emily Howard

I heard

a hundred swallows

released as notes

in high cathedral ceilings

We’re up there too

in the fragrance of the leftover lilies

in organ pipes from long ago.

In the moment

I had

a little vessel to uphold

all bullying and restless edges

smooth wood

pews

a tiny ship

take me back across the ocean

Tired blackbird

Aspiring

Her spire

Her singing

as if in pain

and in fact in pain.

I heard a hundred swallows

released as notes

some of them were in my throat.