write

I should read poetry every day

it should inspire me to write

about little things I notice

or else unnoticed they would remain

 

 

and upon assigning words

they would become big and seen

like the little bird sitting on the railing

along a sidewalk, a railing of pipes

 

 

too big for his tiny feet to grasp

and mostly his body rested there

and as I approached, he did not fly

His black back so black it was steel blue

 

 

like a handgun or Superman’s hair

when he was in comic books

he flitted his wings as if jittering at my presence

but never set himself to flight

 

 

only the next day, there he sat again

and I wondered if perhaps he was hurt

and unable to escape, in case I was his predator

and if so, at whose mercy was he?

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