Volume 5 | Issue 1 | April - May
2011 |
Small Bird Bones
Joneve Mc Cormick
My cat's eyes
shine with tenderness,
his tail furls
and curls with intention.
Soon he will meow long
and scratch the screen door
until he's too tired
to see the fallen sparrow.
I want to let him go,
see his black body fly
like an elegant arrow -
have it over with -
but hear my first cat
high in a tree,
small bird bones
caught in his throat.
Joneve Mc Cormick - Joneve McCormick lives and works in Manhattan as a freelance writer and translator. Over the years she has published her poems, articles and short stories in various publications and online.
