Posts for June 1, 2020 (page 7)

(After Reading The Bird Way by Jennifer Ackerman)

Scientists wonder 
why birds carol
at dawn.

Does the pause
of human hum–

snarl of chainsaw
rumble of tractors
screech of brakes
purr of the fine-tuned SUVs
that prowl this manmade
canyon—

make them brave?

Scientists guess
that birds in my yard
chirp a dialect
for native dangers—

peregrine falcon in the oak
feral cat slinking through honeysuckle
red-tailed hawk in the pine
barred owl boasting

Who cooks for you?
Who cooks for you-all?

Mated pairs call and respond, 
trill measures so tight,
they leave no rests for breath
or interlopers’ grace notes.

Predawn, as light breaks,
maybe it just feels good
to leave your nest
for solo space, that place
to stretch your wings
and sing your wide-eyed
through-composed 
aubade.

Now is not the moment
for my witty anecedotes

Nor is it the moment
for my earnest feelings

It’s also not the moment
for my humble realizations

And definitely not the moment
for my profound platitudes

Now is the moment I shut up and listen
for your voices to rise and enlighten

This is not the moment for any of “my”
This moment is for all of you

It looks like chaos
 but I guarantee you it’s not
 It’s making a point 
It’s caring for
 That’s why we riot, 
out of love
It looks like chaos but it’s so clearly not
Anger seeps and it’s well overdue
Dreams are for white men
Dreams are for the middle class 
But in reality 
Dreams are for the human race
But it’s no dream,
it’s a human right 
To breathe

the year
came to us
with authentic worries

we remain
estranged
full of stones

in a time
that breaks
hope

country battered
and broken
out of time

wanted
change
becomes

whatever happens
hope is our duty
we had not enough

There is no such thing
he says
as a bad dog.
Misunderstood, afraid, aggressive, hard to control, but
none of them wants to be
that way. Codependent,
traumatized, weaned too young,
seeking affection in negative ways
afraid of losing it like a favored blanket.
The cure is partly socialization,
mostly self-soothing,
until old neural pathways
die, unused, and new ones
take their places. 

Every 7 years

The body is made new

And then I’ll be free

–      a body you’ve never touched

I had a dream 
last night 
and you were there by my side
like you always have been  
we took our sons to the park 
and they played 
cops & robbers 
your baby was the 
cop 
and you looked 
relieved 
I think for the first time 
you weren’t thinking about your baby saying 
“I can’t breathe.”

In the night I heard a boy shout
“I can’t breathe; I can’t breathe”
who weeks before yelled
“pass me the ball”

Grateful,
I realize he’s surrounded by family
Horrified,
I realize he’s learning phrases
that should keep a black man alive

but do not.

Years ago in couple’s counseling,
the therapist said I didn’t relate well to men
and now when I see Suzi smiling up at men
at church, sidled close, her eyes saying take me
and when I’m introduced to the dance
instructor I can only see his capped teeth
and softness and when he tells me about
the singles group, I look away at the woman
pouring coffee, th kids playing tag,
the open door promising freedom.

The line that neatly ties the bow
He was ninety-three
“He lived a good, long life”
Neatly packaged and sealed
But not every long life is good
Nor is every good life a long one
The thread loosens

My brother hated visiting the home
It smelled of death and piss, he said
In the security of my silence
I agreed
He was the brave one, for saying so
How we all felt
If we couldn’t bear the smell
The presence of death
How could it have been
To share every moment with it?
Do those years count
Toward a good, long life?

The ribbon has lost its shape
All that’s left now is the box
No need to pick it up
To examine and know
That it’s empty