GLASS BOTTLES

The Persian glass bottles
of azure
unlike the blue of Yves Klein
all three of them
upon the oak wood mantle
sit beside two tiny found bird's nests
which themselves sit beside
a small antique squirrel
holding a hickory nut
to its mouth
ready to dismantle
a whole world
out of it

& into these bottles
some time ago
these bottles
as if pigmented
with "lapis lazuli"
before they were placed
onto the mantle
I whispered poems
many poems       
fragmented into them
& I replaced
the corks
back onto each
of their lungs
of swallowing

& during the winter
when the cold hands
of time
touches our crystal veins           
when the fireplace
underneath
has been lit
to warm us
like a mother bird's sheltering feathers
those ultramarine blue bottles too
became heated
by the flames
below them
igniting ablaze
the invisible solidity
of the words already on fire
within them