Saturday, April 4, 2020

A bird flew in through the window
I disassembled it piece by piece
A bird of light, a bird of dust
Stained glass feathers
I took its gears apart, watched it gasp
Flapping page wings
I enjoyed the precision
every word fit together like a cog
I cherished the echo it made
when I wound it up
When I tore all the pages out
leaving only the cardboard cover
A bird flew in the balcony door
I opened my mouth and it flew right in
I waited for it to lay its eggs
that would hatch into the words
I wanted to say to you
It got late. Night blanketed the rooftops.
My nest was dried out and empty,
perfect kindling for a bird
with wings of flame.

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