At night in our bed,
beautiful stars well hidden
by thick drawn curtains,
you open your eyes
and you show me the bluebird
inside—in your heart—
and I show you mine.
Then we lie there in the truth,
in the soft lamplight,
in the evening,
fatigued from living the day
as we retell it.
But it feels so good
to listen to each other’s
birds sing out their blues.
It’s so good, in fact,
we hide them again, inside
ourselves, when we’re done,
and maybe listen
to the muffled refrain, this
time with our eyes closed.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 22, Issue 3.
Greg Hill is a math tutor, voice over talent and adjunct professor of English in Connecticut. He has an MFA in Writing from Vermont College of Fine Arts and his work has previously appeared in Cheap Pop, Whiskey Island, Life and Legends, Apeiron Review and elsewhere. After putting his kids to bed, his avocations include watching videos on astrophysics and earning crowns on Duolingo.
