It was winter
and the birds
were out 
far too long;
but still 
they did not
freeze.

"Birds," I asked,
"how can you 
stay so warm?
What do you eat
to keep up
your hearts
beating with joy
for every second?"

They said nothing
and it only made me
Know. 

I will build 
a bird house
in my ribs;
and ask them 
not to fly
so they might 
get some rest
and prepare 
for spring. 

Until then 
my words 
are mine 
and not
yours:

scattered 
in notebooks
in bookbags
in backseats
of those cars
speeding so quickly 
into blinding rays 
of a melting sun;
tossed like seed
to the these birds
in my ribs
so malnourished
and freezing
from years
of hoping.



Goodnight,

-- 


-e.

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