Jay Maria Simpson

A Dead Bird

A dead bird appears in a hallway
like a fragile piece of poetry thrown against a wall
the first act the play of the day
a woman who writes and fucks and dreams
lays naked on a bed of nails
sullies the sheets with the written word
spews her rage onto notebook pages
turns on lamps at the break of dawn
pulses at the howling the riotous song
looks at the cage cuts it with snippers
while snipers parade their latest kill
homeland heartland zealous anthems a prayer
a mountain of bullshit a life of despair