HUMMINGBIRD

Jack Silver

you’d let all your angels sing of doom

i was a hummingbird

as they hit the ground like ripe melons

impatiently flittering

before showing me a love that wasn’t

between zinnias and impatiens

steep

bouncing bloom to bloom on his fruitful

figure

i stole gasps of his flesh,

blinkspeed tours of his architecture

during the gazes we’d hold

light ladled prudently over his bounty,

i took him in sips, hoping he wouldn’t notice

my ripening stare