Tiger Morning

What are we but very few words
folding over one another
like giant tulips
We are the days of the week
shuffled and who cares
what does it matter

My wolf heart
this tiger morning

Your birthday song parades
wakes the dinosaurs

We soak our sleeves in the cold
We wash seeds that rip through
impossible dirt and then
all these flowers
rose blades in flames
of silence,

mine: a window
mine: a body willow heavy

you: a jack-in-the-box
you: a dull, blink of a hum

The needle smooth
the record player orbits
like the skirt of a dervish
or the ocean’s longhand
that leaves no mark:
water is largely unbroken

Atoosa Grey is a poet and singer-songwriter living in Brooklyn, NY. She studied literature in college, and is a current MFA student at The New School. Her poems have previously appeared in Common Ground Review and on The Best American Poetry blog. You can also find her on the playground in Brooklyn with her three-year-old and three-month-old daughters. Visit her website: http://www.atoosa.net.

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