Operating Theater
When we found you
thrashing in the brambles,
feather-clad neck noosed
in fishing line,
I wonder if you felt
anything other than fear.
Forgive me,
I tried to make
the operation go smoothly-
I am a novice surgeon,
you, the protesting patient.
I am unfamiliar with the map
of your fragile body,
the architecture of wing and bone
is foreign to me.
When you disembarked from
our ramshackle med bay,
I hope you were deaf
to the siren song
that ensnared the both of us.
‘noosed in fishing line’. It is marvelous what poets can do with words in this writing environment.