Birdsong
Two tone song on endless loop
Because God is a child who never tires
Of the punchline, the trick,
Even though the mystery is his.
Spying us from on high the bird
Progressed to her minor chord
Declined, the only reason we could find
Her heart, wrapped in broken branches
Held together with forgotten things
Their mouths opening
When our shadow passed over,
Greedy for a taste of squirming earth
Blind to the danger we couldn’t help but bring
Her throat torn by a repeated phrase –
Get away, get away –
Knowing then she might never sing
Again, falling to earth to knock us off course with a
Desperation we were large enough to ignore.
I held my hand over their trembling forms
Aware that my touch, no matter its warmth
Promised exile, and still I stood there
Far too long, the wrong keenly felt,
Its pull a surprise, restrained by
The touch of your hand on mine.
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Matt Escott lives in Toronto with his wife and 6-year-old twins. For the past 10 years he has worked with youth experiencing homelessness, and is currently developing a mentorship program for youth in foster care. His poetry has appeared in ONE ART and Ekstasis Magazine.
Stone Poetry Quarterly 