Chatter

Her eyes chatter

As her beak chatters

As her limbs chatter

Chatter, chatter, chatter

She speaks, and speaks, and cheeps

As her feathers reappear

Rebuilding …growing strong

She’s been grounded

For flying without true reason

Into a storm her wings weren’t strong enough for

The pretty bird with a broken wing

She’s dying to believe in someone’s words

Dying to believe in her own

Dying…

The little things, she thinks

Even the fleeting images

Trying to find ground

Or better yet

A wind that will lift her… again into flight

She comes to me

At night, mostly

She shares me for tiny moments

Indulges me

And I sit, watching, admiring, knowingly

Pulled in, again, once too often

I’m a fixture, a possibility

For moments only

Moments that come and go

And often, come again

I remain, still, steady

Even as I understand that she’s anything but ready

She becomes antagonized, airs false insecurities

Jealousies she might care about

Were she there, in heart…

I diffuse what I can

And let the rest float away

Let myself float away

Its 5am

She’s here, asleep

I’m awake, dreaming

But why am I here?

I often forget to ask myself this question

Am I waiting for something?

For her… possibly?

To fall in love with me?

And what then, my old friend?

As if…

This isn’t even a rebound, it’s a backup

And you’re it…

Know it will end no other way…

So, should I try for all I can get?

No… I’m not built that way

And therefore I’ll have no regret, either way

I’ve learned how to abandon the idea of loss

When I don’t understand it

And especially, when I do

ⓒ 2005 Shawn Michael Quinn