Sixfold Poetry Summer 2021

Pamela Wax He dreams of birds that resemble you.

He resembles you. He is not a bird, though when he jumps to dunk a ball, he is suspended, like you dancing, a Chagall, everything floating, houses and cows.

You visit when he sleeps. You are crow, bluebird, cardinal, canary—you choose the color, and he supplies the plumage, shows me a single feather left on his pillow in the morning, lets me stroke it against my cheek.

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Pamela Wa x

SIXFOLD POETRY SUMMER 2021