The Third Bird

[Leanne]

fingers stuck in a parrot
is the closest she’ll come to
an angel, as she gathers
feathers against her palm
while the other hand dances
to his string
 
she’s known heaven
in the snow tang over salt water
or the sweet embrace of whisky
against the side of a crystal glass
but heaven doesn’t hold her
 
when she falls
the words are empty
 
there is nothing to do but fill them
with drops of air shaken
from forgotten handkerchiefs
and shards of glass, stained with promise,
too small to brush aside

[just mercedes]

The final two lines brought me back to making stained glass; how I always used a brush to clear my cutting table, after the first time of brushing with my hand - the blood, the pain.

I just love 'snow tang over salt water' - and it takes me to your poem 'Snowy'.

So many connections in this.

[Leanne]

Some people make for good inspiration

[Keith]

You realy have some delightful images here, my favourite being
the sweet embrace of whisky
against the side of a crystal glass
that thin slither holding onto the quality of the near perfect glass....just super

one small typo.... with (a) drops of air shaken and I also think this is a great image.

This is a delightful way to sell us your character, and what's not to love about her.

Need to read a few more times but for now I'll just say thanks for the read.
Best Keith

[Leanne]

Many thanks, Keith, and a thousand more for catching the typo 

I'm especially pleased that the whisky bit comes through clearly -- I wasn't sure, but just saying "nice legs" like those old Scottish blokes do wasn't going to cut it!