Blackbird Love

Blackbird Love
by
Gerrie Beck

A bird pecked my cheek, blood pools,
slowly trickling down
warm and dewey,
it traces lines I have worn
as armor since you disappeared
into the sacred night. 

It was a blackbird, large and dark
With eyes that bewitched,
made me putty
as I stood erect and
let it peck, peck, peck.
I named him Rasputin. 
I was damned from the start,
succumbing to his love, a fever-pitched
sigh suggested pain,
but he alone knew it wasn’t so.

That blackbird gave a caw and left,
craning head, talons outspread,
he veered to the right above the tree. 
The one you and I did feed and fertilize,
letting our spirit run free
with red wine and cheese,
Picnic tablecloth and poetry, we read until dusk,
until our bodies met, skin upon skin,
heart upon heart.  Our breath blurred together
as the faint rustle of leaves filled the space in the wind.