WEDNESDAY: Old Birds

BY DIANNE KORCHYNSKI

Copyright is held by the author.

where old birds come from and where they go

Incredibly
old tiny wizened
little old ladies
women born and bred on the bare boned highlands
enduring, unsentimental as lichen
you cling to rock,
make no complaint
show no pity

Until at last, gathered up, collected into tidy rooms,
all innocence
you sit in companionable silence
and mutely hold each others’ hands

Starched-stiff upper lip
damaged daughters
visit unrecognized,
dutiful, even still:
easier now that your flinty bones,
iron minds
themselves do bend and crumble
your sharp tongues blunted
the whole human edifice
turned to porridge

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