Zoom into the warring
America. Zoom past
the riots, the COVID
hospital wards,
courthouses burning,
the so-so-so-white
White House, the mothers
weeping in tear gas
clouds, the coffins
stacking up. Zoom into
the patch of Appalachian
green, past the strip
mining and rebel flags
flapping, past everyone
not wearing masks, everyone
“all lives matter”ing.
Zoom in until
you see this gray-roofed
house, just upstream
from the family
graveyard. Zoom in past
the WiFi field that dams up
the world’s acid, past
everyone needing so much
and find a tired
woman in a wooden rocker,
breath slow and even.
See the bird nest
in the porch rafters.
Zoom in to see
the tiny momma
bird head peeping out,
eyeing the woman who
is eyeing it
with such intensity.
They crouch there,
the two of them,
mothers hunkered down
and hidden from everything
for a moment,
on high alert,
trying to understand
each other.