Kimberly Ann Southwick

SIRENS IN THE DISTANCE, DOWN THE SHORE

a female cardinal is clicking her chirp
on the telephone wire, and the dogs

are not pleased at the attention their leash-holders
are telling them not to pay her. off-red and full of blood

she’s a soft-bellied temptress who wants only what’s best
for the little cluckers in her nest, so she sings.

her mate is darker red, but not near. with the breeze
she is aflight. the day extinguishes as she disappears

behind the neighbors’ roof. alone, the dog and i wait
on the porch for the boys. when they arrive, the heat

off their bodies smells like the sun. i have turned up the music
and figured a way to make them stay. later, joey and i

lie on the king-sized bed, guinevere and lancelot,
with the german shepherd down the middle like a sword.

Kimberly Ann Southwick lives in Philadelphia and is editor-in-chief of the literary arts journal Gigantic Sequins, which is about to release its 3.1 issue. She sometimes pretends that her boyfriend’s dog is a dragon. The dog doesn’t care. Here is a link to her (Kimberly’s, not the dog’s) blog.