THE NIGHTJAR
The nightjar I’ve known for a long time
is also sitting here tonight
our eyes meet –
mine are so fearful
hers are like stones
and like stones know everything without speaking
she presumably knows much more
than she says.
I ask for a moment of silence so as
to get closer to her
so that her lips which are pointed and cold
will meet mine.
But then she flaps up like she did before
and begs to be excused such measures.
Nothing has changed
her life is claws and wings
and what else she is I do not know.
To see the original poem, go to here.
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