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5647229929 6055a0be02 m birdclock


 There is a territorial cardinal

 attacking his reflection

  in the windows

  of my house.

  He is a self loather.

  It is incessant – his beak ,

  his feet 


  the glass.

  The sound has become  like torture to me

  but it brings me back  to remind me

  that I am packing

  to move 

  and there will be no cardinal.

  He will remain here

  in his defensiveness,

  guarding his right

  to this place

  as his


  He is my cardinal clock,

  ticking off

  my time

  in this space,

  this house,

  my home.

  The pendulum swings against my hesitancy

  red feathers jam the clock works of my life.


4 Comments (Add Yours)

  1. hmmm….I hope you will forgive me for having trouble separating the artistry of the poem from your own personal circumstances. I would like it so much better if I didn't know you. But since I do, it makes me feel sad. I guess, tho, it is supposed to do that. I loved the "he is a self loather" line…well, loved it & didn't at the same time.

  2. I find this poem luminous. It beautifully evokes a sense of both melancholy and the hopefulness of moving forward.

  3. I just came back again to say I really, really love this poem. xo

  4. This poem hurts my heart, which I suppose makes it very good. I don't like being reminded of leaving while others stay behind.

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