Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Escape is a cage
Escape is a cage, but only a tiny one;
the sound of a horn that warns of nothing,
bleating its own indifference —
and out I fly, for the hinge between ribs
has broken, and my wings scatter
seeds to the floor.
Give me an ocean;
the last blind expedient;
a subway’s flash and roar;
fists against glass;
mountains lost in love;
a puppy from my childhood.
Between pillars that keep the sky from falling,
sense is dead on the step —
as if someone says, “Mom! Birdie is gone!”
and I wish how I wish, how I wish how I wish
to be back in.
“Escape is a cage” added to Poems, Slightly Used.