At night I would open the door on a bird that flew back and forth from a vast void as if it had never flown or lived in a tree-nest ,in a big hole outside that sucked all sleep.
Sleep would suck both bird and room that took no birds ,the hole that sucked. Sleep was the biggest hole inside room.
Sleeping birds never lived outside a sleep. They would fly back and forth like wind. They never existed except near a balcony’s hibiscus where they would tremble in outlines.
Little black bird
Bird mom had tried unsuccessfully to make a nest made of twigs and feathers .She had hung it on our internet wire. But the nest had to be removed later because the bird was making such a mess. The bird never gave up on mothering.She went ahead and birthed the chick somewhere else.
But the chick is growing and still insists on sleeping on our clothesline at night.
As if it is an underwear drying on the clothesline .
Bird, when it is due to pretend,
Returns to clothesline at night.
It has to pretend for the night.
Bird pretends to be underwear
And manages to dry by a night.
Bird just pretends night is day.