Blackbird (A Poem)


She’s a blackbird, chipped and dry
Marble lines: gray, black, white
Face weathered, wings tethered
Beaded eyes, all-seeing outside the light
In gritty squawks
She talks to the night

Laugh lines and rusty bells
Secrets she tells in whispers and sighs
You can fly

She’s war-striped and spangled
Her mangled nest left behind
A mess of battle cries
She squints at the moon and sings
With books on her breast and songs in her beak
She beats her wings
And flies

About Melissa Donovan
By day, Melissa Donovan is a web designer and copywriter. By night, she writes fiction and poetry.

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