Love Poem for the Start & End of a Quarantine

We live in a shelter built of abandoned birds’ nests —

each morning they claim, twig by twig, what’s rightfully theirs.

You’re tall as the stride of a horse across a glen of violets.

You want me the way a cat seeks out the sunny part of the room.

You show me how to tie ship-worthy knots, the kind that loosen if I pull just so.

Our altar is whatever we can assemble from the closet’s cleaning supplies.

Our place of worship? That painting of the sea, whales shouldering the waves.

We eat everything but the thin, small bones.

The thin, small bones — we eat everything but

that painting of the sea, whales shouldering the waves. Our place of worship

is assembled from the closet’s cleaning supplies. Our altar is whatever

loosens if I pull just so. You show me how to tie ship-worthy knots

the way a cat seeks out the sunny part of the room. You want me

across a glen of violets tall as the stride of a horse.

Twig by twig, we claim what’s rightfully ours: each morning

we build shelters, abandon nests. We live like birds.