Tanagers & dragonflies

It's the image
emblazoned in my retina
of dead birds in the snow
and lifeless babies in green wards
haunting me like a victim's ghost
leaving behind anguished cries
that soar out of my being
to incarnate as red dragonflies
that spread their glistening wings all over my body
while I see my face in each one of them
My sparkling laments
like warm, melted, rubies
free at last
going at different speeds
in opposite directions
like flocks of demented tanagers
desperately seeking the bliss of spring
accros the fair and delicate sky
of my skin
Until they can fly no more
and the bittersweetness of their scent
dies quietly upon me
its stillnes remaining forever
in mid-air​