I’ve read “Bird Envy,” (available through The Harvard Bookstore)by Meg Pokrass once to sample, again to savor. Pairs of words came to mind as I dove into these pages: spare and sumptious, sensual and soulful, lush and dry. The book is a collection of flash fiction, but I’m going to call it poetry. “The city smells salty, orange light sneaks around his shower-curtained window, cabs call like geese, or mothers of missing children.”