the garish purple feathers
of the bird that only lives
somewhere in her eyes
inhabiting the best rooms
of a secret house
& she doesn't know you
& she never calls
& she doesn't talk to strangers
& she won't come out to play
& she won't answer the door
& she ignores the windows
but she looks into the mirror
far beyond the sea of glass
where the bird's high sparkles preened
fall in glitters from its wings
purples     blues     blacks     greens
crying through the monstrous foliage
as she drowns herself in dreams

Karen R. Porter resides in the Pinelands of southern New Jersey where she writes, does conservation field work for the state, and takes care of way too many critters. Some of her writing has recently appeared in Square Lake, Decompositions, Not One of Us, and Paradox.