The bird does not sing, yet you suppose your melody
swings inside her throat just waiting to burst free.
The bird does not fly, but you suppose it loves your shoulder
as if it were her Ararat, some wonder that you showed her.
Perhaps she's ill and dying, hiding everything she can.
Perhaps she curls within herself like a feathered ampersand.
Perhaps she's silent just to vex you, cruel withholding thing.
Perhaps she sings when you're not there and makes the courtyard ring.
She may have sung before you knew her, then not sung again.
Perhaps she makes of poise and pride a royal diadem.
Does she not love, or does her heart go by another name?
And if she sings, is her voice true or just legerdemain?
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for Dverse Meeting the Bar--positivity through negation
Wow! that was spectacular. I love what you did here. Your opening line is perfect!
ReplyDeleteThis poem sings, not silently but loudly and clearly. I particularly love the second stanza, how the questions strike the core.
ReplyDeleteSo many layers and complexities here! I find myself reading and rereading, revealing more ways in which I identify with the theme.
ReplyDeleteShay, this is glorious .. resonating with me for reasons difficult to express. In tears as I reached the end. (Darn you!☺️)
ReplyDeleteJust lovely to read, imagery rhythm and rhyme all perfect.
ReplyDeleteHow quick we are to judge another's song by our own "melody"! And how quick to interpret silence without suspicion and our own preconceptions. All the questions and suppositions paint an intriguing triptych of persona, her subject, and the reader, a psychological thriller in a way. An amazing poem, Shay.
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