I suppose the reason I called was
to say there are lots of little birds
leaving tracks up my spine again.
They followed me here through
that ancient stretch of sky above the Channel
to cage themselves in my chest
and tap tap tap against my soul
skin
eyes
mouth
heart.
They have lived here so long
that when they beat their wings
I can no longer tell if the feeling is
guilt or fear or infatuation.
But my feet itch from all the running,
from all the gambling and scheming,
the praying to turn this mess into a miracle.
But when I am lost and dizzy and halfway
between here and the bottom of the ocean,
when life lights up with the adrenaline promise
of one more night at the fun fair,
the birds swoop back in to claw
at this brittle cage we both call home
and whisper to me in delusion and dreams.
I send them away from time to time
in those gorgeous wine-smudged evenings
when stains from the second bottle of red
seem like kisses if only you catch them in the right light.
When we wake, there are lots of tiny
bones scattered in your back garden, the house is cold,
and the Sunday scaries last all year.
What does it say about a person
when the first thing they do in the morning
is count magpies? I have a greedy fistful
of superstitions and a lying human voice
that tells you I could live without it forever.
The birds sing into the morning’s open mouth
and I block my ears with a cheater’s tongue.
At night, they guide my trembling hands
towards the fatal glow of a screen,
seeking their escape from purgatory.
Seeking something sweet, soft, surrendering.
Thumbs crash into glass, causing disaster
like small, lost animals that only come out at night
when blinking office lights guide them to oblivion.
If I don’t let these birds out soon,
I fear I’ll spend the rest of my life
chewing on cardboard
when what I really want are oysters.
They are still here today
and they are still here tonight
and they are still here tomorrow,
but one day the dawn chorus will end,
the day will begin
and the birds will lay
their broken bodies
down in the road
to trigger superstitions
I no longer believe in.