After

You have left yourself hanging

inside me, like so many little
flags clothes-pinned along a line
that runs from head
to heart. A message, letter
by letter, one on each shred
of fabric, that spells
the blue of your eyes
(and my reflection when you pulled
me out of me), has spread
a few inky fingers
which turned into
a sparrow.
It sprouts feathers
and nestles
underneath my spine
to take a nap. Now, I
must confess I
cannot say for how long
it will sleep. I can only
hope
its dreams are sweet
and I am hospitable
and perhaps
it will decide
to stay.