Today's poem is by Andrew Osborn


And then there's the wind blows through me, no noun.

And then there's the nearby cave full of flickering

allegory, ankles hobbled by shadows.

And then, of course: all of that bird's-eye view

and the want of a place that does not see you.

Where has my curiosity flown?

With what will I huddle? Upon what hinges

and creaks my coat-hanger swing?

The myna still mimics the car alarms.

And then there's the trick of getting a bead on

not the bird but its aboutness, the place

where the flurry is heard because they splay.

So un-in-love, involved. Here comes

life's force-fed effigy aloft on pickets.

I pull one out and start a new fence.

Copyright © 2005 Andrew Osborn All rights reserved
from Bat City Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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