Warbler

Never got to decorate

your shrine, plaster
polaroids of you smiling
on pink spider-string,
stuff so strong it holds
your drink while you
attempt that routine
you've been practicing,

where you tight-rope
across my puffed-out
chest.

I'm no designer of interiors
or explorer of frontiers.
Not one speck an exception
to pursuit's golden rule.

Just a peckish red warbler

yodeling to the great blue,
treating the vast resplendence
the way I would treat you.