This poem is taken from Stand 241, 22(1) March - May 2024.
The Last Bungalow Before the Ravine
Cradling it, fallen and wet, in my lap, I cycle one-handed
to the bird lady’s house.
Go around, she says.
A chirrupy pong radiates from cages
as she coaxes the hatchling, beak heavy as dumbbells,
...
to the bird lady’s house.
Go around, she says.
A chirrupy pong radiates from cages
as she coaxes the hatchling, beak heavy as dumbbells,
...
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