Tipton Poetry Journal – Summer 2021
Thirteen Blackbirds Jake Bailey Another mouth inside me breathes. Everything breathes on the other side. Listen to the woods and the pale colors embracing ghosts and the soft thunder of hooves in the distance. Thirteen blackbirds fly over the ferryman, worn hands grasping rope like bread dipped in wine. Another mouth inside me breaks into thirteen pieces. Thirteen blackbirds. The horizon. The fading light.
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