The Part That Sings

His head is

at the window. The only

part

      that sings.

— Amiri Baraka

a hummingbird

is not known for singing

it whirs

& blurs

at my window

at lavender, yarrow, sage

the beak, the tongue

tasting, feeding

I watch at the window

the red throat the steady mark

color a blur yet red, rufous

greater than glitter of

cobalt blue

emerald green

a hummingbird sings by being

by looking at me

at flowers

at the cat

mid-pounce

the moment when

bright colors

blurred motion

cease

now throat, head, wings 

are black

a hummingbird thing

a bit between cat’s jaws

a bit never strung to a bridle

an unbridled act

the beak

now a spear

a thorn

pierces my window

two heads at my window

one bird

one cat

no longer any part

that sings