Eileen R. Tabios is a poet working in multiple genres and in-between. She also loves books by writing, reading, publishing, critiquing, romancing and advocating for them. This blog will feature her bibliophilic activities with posts on current book engagements and links to her books and projects related to books.

Thursday, January 9, 2014

POEM FROM A TRUE STORY (#1)

This morning I opened
the front door
to take out the trash

and saw a bird
dead, almost invisible
against the gravel

and returned
to the kitchen
where I found

two discarded
plastic bags
one for my hand

that will pick
up the bird
to deposit into the other

and that is what
I did
exactly

and I saw
its grey neck
flopping, broken

and it was proof
of what I
had anticipated--dreaded--

as I'd moved
to pluck the bird
from its demise

and the proof
made me consider
once again

why a human
would wish to
be God

in control
of others
when that power

also means
you will know
the feeling

of holding
a corpse
small enough

to fit within
a palm, huge
as befits a God

's hand
which will allow
destruction

and not flinch
from caressing
Aftermath


***

A true story: the event occurred this morning.  What also happened that I thought might make it into the poem but didn't -- and it's always interesting to see what gets left out, di ba? -- is how I had crooned at the bird as I picked it up and deposited it into a Baggie, "Bird Spirit, leave your body behind.  Fly up now towards the sky [here I looked up at the sky, beautiful in its blueness this morning].  You are now free, not locked within this body."  And I kept crooning that because I loathed the idea of the Bird [Spirit] being placed, along with other debris, into the garbage--the other trash bag I was holding contained smelly cat litter! And I made sure to take my time zippering up the Baggie in case the Bird Spirit needed more time to leave its bird body ...

... interesting.  True.  A detail I thought for sure would be in the poem.  But left out of the poem which became mostly, it seems, about its second half.  The poem always transcends the poet's autobiography.









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