Today's poem is by Anna Journey
Diagnosis: Birds in the Blood
The hummingbird's nervous embroidery
through beach fog by our backpatio's potato vine
reminds me of my mother's southerndrawl from the kitchen: She's flying,
flying like bird! I've heard thatas a child I involuntarily flapped my hands
at my side during momentsof intense concentration. I'd flutter
over a drawing, a doll, a blond hamsterin a shoebox maze. There are ways
to keep from breakingapart. My guardians. My avian
blood. I believedbirds bubbled inside memy own
diagnosisthough the doctors called itsomething else: a harmless
twitch. A body'scrossed wires. The lost
birds of my childhoodnerves have never
returned. But when you heldmy elbow as we walked the four
blocks to the boardwalk,we saw the brief
dazzle of a black-chinned hummingbirdthe first
I'd ever seen. It sheenedand tried to sip
from my sizzled wrists'vanilla perfume. I knew
a single onefrom the magic
flock had finally found me.
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Copyright © 2012 Anna Journey All rights reserved
from Spillway
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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