Small Bird, by Dah

Small Bird
By Dah

Snow scatters the ground

In a field of ice
a small bird’s frozen corpse

What else can be said about
a dead bird
I love you and I am sorry?

In this cold
hands are useless

In this cold
death’s precise exhale

Make a note of this on a yellow Post-it
stick it to a mirror

then look away

you are gone

Dah is the author of three books of poetry from Stillpoint Books. His fourth book, The Translator, will be published by Transcendent Zero Press in the summer of 2015. Dah lives in Berkeley, California, and is working on the manuscripts for his fifth and sixth poetry collections. He blogs at Words Of Dahlusion.

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