Caged Bird Society

By GERRY LAFEMINA

All the small griefs, the petty slights, the imagined
worst things, he’s placed them each

in its own little cage, set them on stands & tables
throughout the house for their easy

company. Some perch on the swing, head cocked.
Some peck at the water dish & scratch

at the bad news lining the bottom. He enjoys how
they rustle their dark feathers at night.

Come morning you can only imagine, can’t you,
the glorious, dissonant dirges they sing.

Gerry LaFemina is the author of numerous books of poetry and fiction, the most recent of which are Vanishing Horizon (poems, 2011 Anhinga Press), Notes for the Novice Ventriloquist (prose poems, 2013 Mayapple Press) and Clamor (novel, 2013 Codorus Press). He directs the Frostburg Center for Creative Writing at Frostburg State University and divides his time between Maryland and New York.

[Click here to purchase your copy of Issue 08]

Caged Bird Society

Related Posts

A hospital bed.

July 2024 Poetry Feature: Megan Pinto

MEGAN PINTO
I sit beside my father and watch his IV drip. Each drop of saline hydrates his veins, his dry cracked skin. Today my father weighs 107 lbs. and is too weak to stand. / I pop an earbud in his ear and keep one in mine. / We listen to love songs.

Image of a sunflower head

Translation: to and back

HALYNA KRUK
hand-picked grains they are, without any defect, / as once we were, poised, full of love // in the face of death, I am saying to you: / love me as if there will never be enough light / for us to find each other in this world // love me as long as we believe / that death turns a blind eye to us.

many empty bottles

June 2024 Poetry Feature: New Poems by Our Contributors

KATE GASKIN
We were at a long table, candles flickering in the breeze, / outside on the deck that overlooks the bay, which was black / and tinseled where moonlight fell on the wrinkled silk / of reflected stars shivering with the water.