Rainbird in the Annex

I make my way to MacEwen’s salient red door
To catch some remnants of her
A faint scent lifting into old familiar skin
Her unbendable pronounced lightness absorbed by sky
Deliquescent words lost to the sun
Her cordless poetry smothered by wind
I float on
Forgetting why I came and
Become caught in Atwood’s wide-brimmed hat
I nestle in
And burrow seeds
Surrounded by other flight