1,317 Readings | 5 Ratings

Birdsong

Autumn, which I take to mean depletion,
but then a bunch of small birds between
some dead husks.  Is it that bird means girl,
or that a bird’s shrill voice will
repeat its surprise in song?
I hear it through the window
in the pause between commercials.
Not a sparrow, I guess, and not a swallow.
"Oh, she’s so skinny" Sarah will comment,
which at any rate would be the first thing to say.
More leaves on the deck in the morning
but on top of that a dead bird,
unmarked and beautiful.  Looks like a pipit.
When we met she smiled and acted confident,
but you could see the effort.  Her neck was long,
and her throat raised and lowered itself,
in swallowing.
How could she not seem alluring?
It was a long way on I-57, the grass
was monotonous, and the land.
So, her brown hair was limp and substanceless.
She lowered her voice to help me
and we squat together, trying the plug in a dead outlet.  
Posted 07/19/09
Comments (1)
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Thank you! This poem challenges, and I love the way it does so, the way it evokes and plays to resonance twisting in depleted wind.
07/28/09 11:32pm