Tara Broeckel

Lie still

the sparrow can’t try

to scratch through my walls

ever again to hide her late eggs

from the snow

 

lie still

chirping imposter

She’s an imposter because

 

there’s nothing

honest about a bird that doesn’t fly

 

anymore

     lie still

 

She’s stone still

 

     She’s

a godless vagabond

filled

with breath’s lack

 

She’s nothing honest

     She’s still

 

Eyes taken by the scavenger’s- street sweepers of life

 

     Fold her wings

across her booked lungs and her

beak lay into her throat

she’ll sleep

a daughter of tomorrow’s revolution--

 

Quiet’s surrendered. She

gave in. This is why

she’s uncaring--

 

      because

She’s had her blood meal

She’s here broken through

the

Cavity of her corpse cave

and we let her in

the door collapsed--

 

Still

     Those eyes

disappearing into the bellies of

others- a families feast

 

     which

quiet has embraced--

 

remove her from the wall

fold her wings