Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Karen McCarthy Woolf

AN AVIARY OF SMALL BIRDS

AN AVIARY OF SMALL BIRDS

AN AVIARY OF SMALL BIRDS

My love is an aviary
of small birds
and I must learn
to leave the door ajar . . .
 
Are you the sparrow
who landed when I sat
at a slate table
sewing lettuces?
 
Webbs Wonder, Lollo
Rosso, English Cos . . .
Swift and deft
you flit and peck peck
 
quick as the light that
constitutes your spirit.
Yes, you were briefer
than Neruda’s octobrine.
 
So much rain that night.
Our room is an ocean
where swallows dive.
The bubble bursts
 
too soon, too late, too long:
all sorts of microscopia
swim upstream, float in
on summer’s storm.
 
The tenor of your heart
is true as a tuning fork struck
– and high! My love
is the bird who flies free.
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AN AVIARY OF SMALL BIRDS

My love is an aviary
of small birds
and I must learn
to leave the door ajar . . .
 
Are you the sparrow
who landed when I sat
at a slate table
sewing lettuces?
 
Webbs Wonder, Lollo
Rosso, English Cos . . .
Swift and deft
you flit and peck peck
 
quick as the light that
constitutes your spirit.
Yes, you were briefer
than Neruda’s octobrine.
 
So much rain that night.
Our room is an ocean
where swallows dive.
The bubble bursts
 
too soon, too late, too long:
all sorts of microscopia
swim upstream, float in
on summer’s storm.
 
The tenor of your heart
is true as a tuning fork struck
– and high! My love
is the bird who flies free.

AN AVIARY OF SMALL BIRDS

Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère