WEBVTT

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"What is caged is
also kept from us.

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"They come back to you as a sign
when someone dies," they say.

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A dragonfly, some
dull moths skimming

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a mud puddle, a hummingbird
in the ditches golden rod.

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But what if they are alive
but not allowed to live?

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How do they return then?

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Cricket under the sink
for three nights straight,

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why do we call it a song?

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That scraping, that
needy strangulation,

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scraper to file,
file to scraper.

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One song is for calling,
another to scare away,

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but they all sound the same in
the ghost hours of emptiness.

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He does not come back.

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And she does not see him in
the red birds, black mask,

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or the dreary pinks
of another dusk.

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He is no symbol, no
easy animal omen.

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She opens the window
to fetch only air.

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He does not even have
a window to open."

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