January 24, 2023 (3.)

You’ve misplaced, Maria dear,
your words again. They’re somewhere 
stuck in the television of your mind, 
and it doesn’t even matter
to me. You sing
lullabies like the birds, laugh 
head thrown back hands clapping
when I flap my wings. 
And when you forget 
a cop is a cop and call them
the blue the blue the blue,
I know what you mean. It is sad 
the brute violence 
of the long arm, the sick brain. 
But, Maria my dear, 
when you hold my face gently in your hands 
and kiss me twelve times on the cheek
you are speaking
perfect love.