She will say it’s not personal and she will it’s overKirsten Kaschock
But this is not that story. We were moving, with cardboard boxes. We could not get at it with a broom, but there was a bird dying for three days in the chimney. I called the landlord, he said the bird is already dead. The bird was not already. The bird was not dead. The bird spent three days dying. I was finished with school in the house for three days packing with Led Zeppelin because of the loud. So there was that, the three-year old, the infant, me and drowning chimney sounds: furious, then— pointless. It was three days, each with a little less bird, and a fourth day with nothing. And we left after that day. We left the day after the nothing day—packing done bird dead. I will always hate Syracuse. We will never be friends.
Kirsten Kaschock Read Bio Author Discusses Poems
|©copyright 2004-2022, No Tell Motel. All poems ©copyright the authors.|