Looking positively neon in the sun out here
these hummingbirds are basically my friends
We hang out so much me on the step’s hot stucco
their jewel-bodies motionless while their needles
zip bloom to bloom the music of their wings
what did I compare it to before my mind
had amateur drones as a correlative
Was it the song of spring the hum of paradise
the note that summoned my grandma calling me
up onto the countertop to watch them at the feeder
to see one then was an event you must be quiet
you must be still there was something sinless
in her presence she watched things die
like I check my phone when I stay out
too long in the Oakland sun I close my eyes
and behind them it’s not dark at all
my head a red orb filled with illusions