This morning, we had two starlings.

One dashed around our garden;

its mate was trapped beneath the mesh 

I’d laid the night before. 

I got my gloves, the sloshing bucket,

and steeled myself as my hand 

submerged, the bird desperate

to resurface. I thought only of the water,

and waited until it stopped moving.

 

Jenne Knight

An Urban Farmer's Lament

                       for Jen

 

 

 

 

 

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ISSUE 96
Not Even Playing

 

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