Byzantine Love Song

The rabbit in the shadow of the house meditates on grass.
The mourning dove coos to some living thing it loves.
A car alarm goes nuts, then another follows suit. Be that
inclination, that turn, the dog at dawn lingering in the yard.

Be that old feeling that amounts to nothing much, that baby
of mine coming out on the porch, her and her alone.

The starling whistles like it’s a shoreless gull pining for water.
Smacky mouth, my dad used to say of kissing. Smitten are you, boy?

You bet, stale sotto voce to one of my own dead all gone.
The rabbit’s snuck off. White noise is back at my ear.

Something needs satisfying. Make me a pallet on your floor,
Mississippi John Hurt sang a long time ago. Our dog sighs.

The cardinal whistles of back roads. I might could get there.
A bee hums in and around the blooms. I might could get lucky.
Billy Reynolds was born and raised in Huntsville, Alabama (“The Rocket City”).
His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in
The Hampden-Sydney Poetry Review,
Poet Lore, Southern Poetry Review,
and Tar River Poetry, among others. Currently, he
lives in Kalamazoo, Michigan.