Did a blue and black skylark
build its nest lined with pearls
in the ruby-leaved branches of your heart?

Did he shake his feathers
like a lover naked in paradise
and scatter black diamonds through the fields of your soul?

Some days I fly east, some days west,
my song tumbling along the breeze
of God’s lightest chuckle.

Through clouds. Now sun. Now rainbows and stars.

My soul lighting candles
upon the sapphire moons of your breasts
clears the path love glides all over this broken-hearted world.

I’ve been told a sacred melody
spun your flesh into thread
and wove your tears into a carpet made for praying.

That’s how we ebony skylarks are—
singing dreamers up out of their sleep
and dancing the dead away from their graves.