I Phone

I remember the growing feeling
of fear
with white clenched fists
watching a women trapped
in a pay phone booth
by soaring, diving, pecking
Hitchcock birds
just waiting on electric lines
to terrorize her
while running children
tried not to scream
as black clouds of birds
invade their homes.

Today children scream
with white clenched fists
and bloodshot eyes
while aiding mass destruction
‘cause Angry Birds
are all the rage.

I still have no control.

Two Wings

It has been over a week now
since I found the bird
dead in my front yard.

Others would have picked it up
to bury under the wood chips
with a farewell song.

But I let it lay
so each day can take a bit
and let grass grow through its feathers.

It has been over a week now
and the beak falls gapping open.
Its song, like mine, is gone.

We have spread our wings too far.