The whistler's
inhale,

the white space
between is

and not
or after a question,

a pause. Nothing
isn't song:
a leaf hatching
from its green shell,

frost whorling
across a windshield,

an open door
opening

From Love, An Index by Rebecca Lindenberg. Copyright © 2012 by Rebecca Lindenberg. Reprinted with permission of McSweeney’s. All rights reserved.