If Bird

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You would be my loon

calling long past light,

my mourning dove, my

sweetest finch flashing

sun from black as night.

If my bird you were I’d

feed you nectar from my

palm and plant thick trees

for you to rest and nest until

I could transform my arms

and hands to feathered limbs—

our hearts remade as song.

Thank you to the editors of The Tishman Review for first publishing this poem.



Published

Originality

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…originality, in art as in science, consists in a shift of attention to aspects of reality previously ignored, discovering hidden connections, seeing familiar objects or events in a new light.

Arthur Koestler

(Made by Elizabeth with the wrap from a bag of lemons and a medical lab’s purple and red tape, which is topped with a wine bottle’s metal cork protector.)