Poem 284

Though written in 1984 – four years later – this is very much the same subject and imagery as the previous poem, maybe in its own way a sequel to it … so it’s interesting to see how my writing, the way I express and shape things has changed … gone is the rhyme and the perspective of this poem is different too – rather than an interior we see a filmic aerial point of view shot of something wild and foreboding flapping furiously, closing in on one house one window behind which we discover love lying dead (it’s a metaphor, no canaries were harmed in the writing of this poem) …

( the lines twitching streets together/ slamming like a door between the buildings recall Poem 122 … I like the way the approaching black wing resolves into an equally angry black wedge of rain … )

Black Wing

You are afraid to dream of wings
snapping against you like vicious fans
but let me tell you
there is one black wing
beating over this town and back
twitching streets together
slamming like a door between the buildings
a black wing
spreading between us and the sun
jerking on severed nerves
cracking its leading edge of bone
on clock towers it narrows
nears our house by instinct

this canary
                    head turned back
stupid in the bottom of its cage
why say it strangled between the bars
when it had no reason to panic
when it didn't sing
but hung
                waited
died of hunger

a black wedge of rain
strikes the glass
a single
sharp blow