Thursday, May 8, 2014

poem



Ballast

Birds eye me through this upstairs window
Fibrillating bow ties feathering in and out
Through a hole in the eaves of the house next door
Carving a moment out from bringing in the sheaves
To reflect on ease of ingress and egress

The smarter ones perceiving keys beg pockets, pockets
Pants and so on and so on until taking wing is just a memory.

They might be onto something, soaring while I sit
Grounded laden down with keys, smart phone, wallet, knife and
Some change, quietly arranging ballast from my pockets  
Along the edge of the sill, snaking a hand up between the blades
Of my back probing for nubs of nascent wings. 

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