~wingspan
there are birds inside the wall
listen
to the rhythm of feathers flapping
like rumors of small hollow bodies
and their desperate chirping need
to be free
I can't unbutton the drywall
or paint it a bold color of
escape
but I try to explain that I'm
addicted to a certain kind of
sad
and maybe we all hide behind
the same corner
if this were elsewhere
a different canvas, a different life
we could fly together
experience the rain
and become intimate with
the outside storm
as if there never was a wall
after all
lah 6.18.12 ©®
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