Barn swallows skim, lifting a heavy-cream dawn
with scissor tailspins. Later, the day glints down upon
one indigo bunting burning bright on a wire,
its back flaming blue—tight tongues of fire.
Each remembrance has its wingspan. For now, I curl
an electric streetcar’s whine into songs that unfurl
through billowing flocks—black-winged commuters
turned starlings—and the shifting vault mutters
homecoming words across an evening’s pink field.
The moon looms luminously as my swallows yield
to bats—quixotic jousts against unseen foes
that mirror the flutter before a memory goes.
Raised in the Shenandoah Valley, Virginia, Olivia J. Kiers currently lives in Boston, Massachusetts, where she works as an editor and art critic. Her poetry has appeared in Sunset Liminal, The Ekphrastic Review, and Bewildering Stories, and was featured in the art and poetry exhibition “Synaesthesia” at Beacon Gallery in Boston.