Birdsong

from his bathtub
he listens to birdsong
beyond closed windows

muffled bursts of sunrise
scrub away the bruises
long to ease his shoulders
shadows flickering as cars break the light

he hums himself a birthday
a conjuring of youth
murmurs her name
scent of blueberries and forget-me-nots
in the bubbles about his knees
smooths back his hair with water
and sits forward dripping

he whistles a response to the
trickle tickle of birdsong
and waits for her name to replay