Size / / /

the garish purple feathers
of the bird that only lives
somewhere in her eyes
inhabiting the best rooms
of a secret house
& she doesn't know you
& she never calls
& she doesn't talk to strangers
& she won't come out to play
& she won't answer the door
& she ignores the windows
but she looks into the mirror
far beyond the sea of glass
where the bird's high sparkles preened
fall in glitters from its wings
purples     blues     blacks     greens
crying through the monstrous foliage
as she drowns herself in dreams

 

Copyright © 2003 Karen R. Porter

(Comments on this story | Poetry Forum | Main Forum Index | Forum Login)


Karen R. Porter resides in the Pinelands of southern New Jersey where she writes, does conservation field work for the state, and takes care of way too many critters. Some of her writing has recently appeared in Square Lake, Decompositions, Not One of Us, and Paradox.



Bio to come.
Current Issue
4 Nov 2024

“Did you know,” the witch says, “that a witch has no heart of her own?”
Outsiders, Off-worlders {how quickly one carves out a corner of the cosmos, / claims a singular celestial body as [o u r s] in the scope of infinity}
Lunar enby folks across here
Wednesday: The 2024 Ignyte Award for Best Novel Shortlist, Part Two 
Friday: A Place Between Waking and Forgetting by Eugen Bacon 
Issue 28 Oct 2024
Issue 21 Oct 2024
By: KT Bryski
Podcast read by: Devin Martin
Issue 14 Oct 2024
Issue 7 Oct 2024
By: Christopher Blake
Podcast read by: Emmie Christie
Issue 30 Sep 2024
Issue 23 Sep 2024
By: LeeAnn Perry
Art by: nino
Issue 16 Sep 2024
Issue 9 Sep 2024
Issue 2 Sep 2024
Issue 26 Aug 2024
Load More