A Flock of Birds Flew By
A flock of birds flew by my
window last night --
hovered in the air for a moment
or two
and landed in quick succession
on the telephone wire.
I tuck my own wings behind me
and lay on them
and press them down
and sigh.
I am weightless and grounded.
I am without feathers.
I pick at my skin
and wonder when they will begin to
Pucker through.
Why can’t I fly like a hawk through the
air and sing like a blue-jay
and see like an owl
and make a nest with my own two hands?
Why can’t my bones be hollow?
Would they break more easily?
If I jumped off a tower with them would they
shatter?
The birds are off the wire now.
They spiral around the pole and into the sky --
Without abandon.
Without fear.
I can’t cry.
My eyes sting and swell up,
but no tears leak.
I’m a rusty faucet.
