VINYL POETRY

Volume 4, October 2011

BIRDIE
Patricia SmithView Contributor’s Note

Ghost of Biology

The animal quivers in a sleep
of thin needles and bells, beneath
eyes that never close completely.
A stiff cool sheet hiccups
with underneath heart, light forced
through tubes as thin as thread.
Today, its legs were broken,
and a warmish vowel died in its mouth.
Ached singing brought only
the touch of wrong hands. All rhythm
rides the don’t-die-now, bracing
for the next resurrection, another
chance to salivate at the bell,
to tear at the milky film of its eyes,
to jump one more time through
the shining silver hoop of its life.