Diary of a Carpenter Wasp
by Gary L. McDowell
(from his chapbook, They Speak of Fruit, published in 2009 by Cooper Dillon)
I sing the days in the morning. My breath weighs less than a
chickadee's. Voice is a good detractor. So are wings. I have
learned a few things and studied many. Mostly things change.
Angles and feathers. It's always about birds. Flying or not.
That they sing at all makes me aware of their lightness, their
eruptive, hollow chutes that when palmed look exactly like the
living do. I should breathe and relax. But like pilgrims, I am a
fool gone too far.
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