Nested
Brooding, I lay on my bed
Never looking down, evading my frames view
The weights I’ve yet to lift lay under my dangling leg
Not a single thought crossing in this head, I am to just lay here
In my nest
Across the room, the nape of the closet
As if folded like wings, returned to its wrapping
The pressing fabric bought with what little crumbs was scrounged
Not a single glance over there do these eyes give or scout, and there it will lay
In its nest
Turned away, leaning on the wall
Reflective glass, preened yet vapid
Behind the surface, here he chirps out slowly
Not a single sound was heard, and there he will remain
In his nest
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