After Sei Shōnagon

When my three-year-old cousin presses buttons on his toys with his middle finger. Middle fingers. Giving someone the bird. Birds. Crows and ravens, especially. Also loons, kookaburras, cockatoos, cassowaries, roseate spoonbills, and shoebill storks with their prominent noses. I love prominent noses. Women whose noses make them look like birds or witches or that spread wide when they laugh. Women who laugh. Women who are bewitching. Women who be witching. Women who call their group of friends a coven. My coven. Emma, Isabella, Jessica, Karina, and my little cousin Ina. Ina’s nose. When Ina’s nose crinkles in the middle when she smiles, like a drawbridge being raised. Bridges. Bridges over cars. Freckles bespeckled over the bridge of a nose. Bridges in songs. Bridges over water. Bridges over troubled water. Troubled water. Breakwater. Drinking water on a break from work. Poems that feel like fresh water after dry and boring literature. Poems that end in a random image. Hot air balloons.