Bird


 There is a blue and yellow bird.

He can say "pretty bird."

He can take off your finger before you know it.


There is a room with a large cage,

or that is a large cage,

with a sentinel window where only light passes.


Say that this bird is yours.

Say that he lights on your shoulder.

Your skin will envy the window glass, and long for distance.


You can sit quietly in the evening.

The bird can strut and scream on its perch in the afternoon.

When you die, tomorrow or ten years from now,


The bird will tilt its head, fluff its feathers, tap its mirror

tap tap tap

in boredom or in victory, a line of sun across its rope trapeze.

_______




Comments

  1. Holy shit, this: "Your skin will envy the window glass, and long for distance." And then this: "tap tap tap / in boredom or in victory"

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  2. Just exquisite, Shay--one of those gifts that fall on us occasionally? You have a real gem here. I don't know if writing it was effortless, but it reads effortlessly, full of bright feathers and sharp bites. I especially like the sentinel window, the skin envying the window glass(!) the mirror, and the ending lines that make us wonder who is in the cage and who could fly. Beautiful writing.

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  3. Thank you for sharing this amazing and deep poem with me Shay! Your lines capture freedom and what it means and does not beautifully! The song is a perfect coupling with feelings and thoughts conveyed. Simply wonderful!!!.

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  4. So good. I spent the whole poem worrying that its claws were stuck in the wire. No wonder i have compassion fatigue. Your poems are always the most amazed moments in my day.

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  5. Rooms as cages. Yes. Awesome write, Shay.

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