BIRDS
THE SMALL AND ANONYMOUS BIRDS OF WINTER
Day 5 Weedy + anathema Now a script for every bodily +
disembodied function You will have REM You just won’t
remember them said be-zitted young man at the Med Pot
clinic He spoke slowly eyes furtive +darting He doesn’t
even know what dreams are for
C.G. Jung is rolling in his grave Dreams the portal to the
oldest language before language Will you sell your soul for
a night’s sleep? You must give up birdsong too They will
sing but you won’t hear them But your pinball skills will be
greatly enhanced
And the past 4 mornings your face recently emaciate +worry
ridden is silky of cheek +25! Once a lineless unpancaked young
woman About to leave your young husband Embark on an odyssey
out of Purdontory (*home address from 4 -19) where your marriage
was arranged His grandparents lived on your great great aunt’s street
In the ghetto Palmerston Blvd. Circa 1938
Some think you should return to brunette But blood coloured hair makes
a statement Now an old 1/2 crazed sister with the face you deserve walking
snowy April streets (*some guy in Oregon blames the Jews for snow!) Yesterday
you explained the blood libel to husband #3 As you listened intently for the birds
you can no longer hear Generally they have brought word of father 133 birds sat
at his knee on his last day Now 29 yrs +counting Yesterday you saw him but
don’t tell the doctor..
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SPRING 2018
songanddancegirl 