Glue Like Complacency

Held in the grip,  
by used cellophane, singe
its coat, burning reflections  
behind  eyelids stuck shut,
 
Mirrored avenue,  
where trees  drink in,  
black-- bile    
Crowded, rich with dwarf willow  
 
 Throwing  her embrace  
around  the dense, strands  
of an old man's beard  
covered with thick lichen
 
It hangs free  
like morbid hammocks
whose anchor has  rotted--away  
 
Languid
oxalic acidic talc pits holes
 in this heavy-- metal collar,  
around her neck  
 
chains dangle
like galling wind-- chimes
 she can't stand  
 
The sound  
picked up by straying  
wingless --feathers  
one more day in the bottom  
of a  bird-- cage  
 
It's  doors left open,  bars
bent into familiar shapes,    
of escape,  
 
Yet nightingale  sits perched  
on  it's  thorny --branch  
 
Pale wind blows,  the cage
 onto damp concrete
 
 shaded in picturesque fairness  
black moldy images
 keep her  occupied,  
immovable.      
within this void  
she loves