Caged Bird Society

By GERRY LAFEMINA

All the small griefs, the petty slights, the imagined
worst things, he’s placed them each

in its own little cage, set them on stands & tables
throughout the house for their easy

company. Some perch on the swing, head cocked.
Some peck at the water dish & scratch

at the bad news lining the bottom. He enjoys how
they rustle their dark feathers at night.

Come morning you can only imagine, can’t you,
the glorious, dissonant dirges they sing.

Gerry LaFemina is the author of numerous books of poetry and fiction, the most recent of which are Vanishing Horizon (poems, 2011 Anhinga Press), Notes for the Novice Ventriloquist (prose poems, 2013 Mayapple Press) and Clamor (novel, 2013 Codorus Press). He directs the Frostburg Center for Creative Writing at Frostburg State University and divides his time between Maryland and New York.

[Click here to purchase your copy of Issue 08]

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Caged Bird Society

Related Posts

The Ground That Walks

ALAA ALQAISI
We stepped out with our eyes uncovered. / Gaza kept looking through them— / green tanks asleep on roofs, a stubborn gull, / water heavy with scales at dawn. // Nothing in us chose the hinges to slacken. / The latch turned without our hands. / Papers practiced the border’s breath.