The Bird
——————————————
It is a forbidden place
or it used to be
fake landscape hewed
out of replaced rock
plants, and a pool
of dead water
in which exotic fish
fight for oxygen
Yet, the bird
caged, is singing
or is it decrying
in its own phylum?
The courtyard sky
painfully clear
even in this twilight hour
unchanged
With the bird
I find myself fighting
for oxygen
Coming back
could be a blessed
bitterness
and you are jerked
a bit on the back
of that dark horse
--Z.Z., summer '04
