A sweet starling talks of
faces in dreams
like time machines
bending us forward
through Rwandan doors where
feet shuffle on dirt floors
Barbers and braids
boys and girls
curly curls and
afros
shakes each hand where
water meets land
inside translations and tickets
voyages yet to be planned
meets language to complete
immigration and citizenship
a thousand hills
of questions
upon a lifeline trill
of nature and nurture
steeped in bureaucratic speech
built upon fragrant dreams
reliant on a floating reach
sweet songs simmer as
day light becomes dimmer
fall leaves dance to the ground
lost and found
paper piled families swing on mary-go-rounds
and hair tossles amidst
cut outs of
sugar and spice and lollipop swirls
blending into curly curls and
afros
startling starlings wake up
and blink
