I have ten cages,
and I have ten birds.
Hummingbirds and woodpeckers. Sometimes
I keep them locked up. They
wait until they see the glimmer of the white key
and eighty seven more,
and they know that their time has come. I unlock them,
set them free, but they stay by me. Oh,
what a special thing- loyalty! They
each get a turn, my undivided attention. Their
newspaper wings lift them up like little windmills spinning away. What
a joy to let them float, to let them soar, to let them land.
When I rise, they rise with me. The last C-sharp,
they carry it on their wings and back to their cages,
and from there they revel in applause.
When she cries, you must let her
rest her chin by the curve of your neck.
You must warn her that in this world she lives in
there are people who will try to hurt her.
You are an owl, and she knows very well that you will always
swoop down from your branch.
She'll teach you her song,
and you'll sing it.
You'll teach her your song,
and she'll sing it.
You'll share with each other all of the wisdom
you think you have.
And she'll reemerge, believing she knows more
about this world that hurts her.
For friendship is a wing.
Once she lifts her head,
you'll teach her how to fly again.
A few minutes earlier he was walking down the beach, avoiding stepping on seashells tucked away in the scorching sand. Now, he is on a small boat made of smooth logs. The mustard-colored sail is woven and patched together. It is bound to the boat by 3 ropes: 1 white, 2 brown. There are a couple of other people on the boat with him, and the man who is guiding the boat to the island is wearing only a pair of green shorts to avoid the heat. They are drifting through the warm waters of the Caribbean. The boat set sail from Grand Cayman and is slowly but surely gliding toward Grand Cayman's sister island: Little Cayman. Once they arrive at the coa
I rode my blue bike
and glanced back
at my brother on his red bike,
with a matching cherry helmet.
He was not following me anymore.
Instead, he crouched,
looking down at
something on the
coarse, gray sidewalk.
I balanced my dusty, navy
bike by kicking the stand
into place,
and I walked over to my brother.
-I squished it- said
the apologetic blue-eyed boy.
A ladybug was sprawled on its back,
so awkward and unnatural,
its dotted red and black exterior
smothered by the ground.
Its perky antennas
atop its coal-colored head
pointed in different directions.
Its wings were limp and useless,
fluttering no longer.
The tiny da
I stride down the sidewalk,
nose itching,
briefcase in hand.
Neatly shaved,
new haircut,
new leather shoes.
People walk past me
from all directions.
She, I think,
She works at that grocery store I just passed,
and she has to smile at every customer
and wish them a good day.
He, I think,
He says he needs to work overtime today,
but it's obvious he hasn't been at work
when he comes home smelling like tequila.
She, I think,
She is going to a job interview,
and if all goes well she will be able
to pay her rent and her bills.
He, I think,
He is grabbing a bagel and coffee
before heading off to his 8:00 A.M. class.
She, I th