Hold fast to the garden,
the little blue shine of a bird.
Its long, curved beak probes for nectar
in the flowering bush next to my kitchen.
Make this bird as necessary as knowing
what the government does in my name.
As necessary as one of your poems—
………………………………………………for a while my world
………………………………………………anchors in sanity.
Every particle of reality is in shadow.
I drown more days than not.
Strange how a hummingbird can crack open such grief—
………………………………………………savage as the numbers of the dead
………………………………………………or the framed photographs of children.
………………………………………………Parents’ hands gripping.
I doubt there are any birds left in Gaza.