Mike Tuggle


The Bird at the End of My Tether

Slumped in the doorway of my kitchen,
looking out into the darkening woods,
I feel the last wink of sunlight
like my own light dying.
So lonely I can no longer bear it
when the tiniest yellow-headed bird appears
with dark brown wings and ivory vest.
So quick and sleek she is
and not much larger than a hummer,
hopping from plant to plant,
dining on grassphoppers and bugs.
Please stay, Miss Yellowhead!
Build your nest nearby!
Call up your kind!


Bringing in the Rains

It was deep winter
of the dryest year
in the history of our city
and Christmas had come
with its great mouth open.
We gave each other promises and wept
because we had not kept some others
and the tears kept coming,
finding many ways to flow.
The more we wept
the more we found to weep about.
And when at last the drought was over
and the rains began,
we felt our long weeping
had brought them in.


I Know It Will Happen One Day

We will be with our families and friends
in someone's living room, talking.
I will be adoring you from across the room
out of the corners of my eyes
so as not to arouse suspicion.
As I lust for you, my hands will begin
to squirm like two uncontrollable little animals.
At last, unable to bear it any longer,
they will loose themselves from my arms     fingers writhing
and fly across the room to your thighs,
to your breasts.
No one will believe what will be happening
before their eyes
but they will know at last,
your husband, my wife, and all the rest.