Reaching past burgundy
signposts pointing
east to An-Nur Mosque
Blue jays sing
for black boys
on vacation
And the swelling of music
rattles their small and new
bones, shrill azurite motifs
Beckon like a wrench
wedged between a door to dusk
and a place calling
“Dinner” for baby blue
jays is a quiet worm,
shoelaced licorice
Keeps a boy
inside, memories
of that soft blue beam
tapping the paned
glass window for a piece
of closing day.
