Published in RED INK: International Journal of Indigenous Literature, Arts, & Humanities (Spring 2017).
The Language of Flowers
a songbird swallows a bud that blooms in its gut
snaking up the esophagus
like my mother swore couldn’t happen
hollowing its stem and
laying petals across the soft pink throat
along the rigid inside of the narrow beak
where out spill pollen and stamen—
each call a blush of dust
every song a fluttering of leaves
Austin Eichelberger 