Today's poem is by Lauren Mitchell
It was a simple change.
Not unlike those birds
in the park, netted and tagged,
tossed again to the sky.
Just as air returns water to itself;
the transaction is mostly imagined
like love or grief.
But the birds knew the difference:
and after-net selves
before the body's turning,
and after, where some prospect
of ghost lies fallow
the cells learn to speak
only in constellations of scars.
Copyright © 2006 Lauren Mitchell All rights reserved
from Pebble Lake Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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