Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Do not touch the glass

The sign said it all,
The glorious-feathered bird
With its blazing colors
Perched inside
Twisting its head
This way, then that,
Trying to figure out
Who I am
On this side of the glass
The keeper telling us
“Look, don’t touch,
don’t smudge the glass,”
and we can’t,
hands pinned to our sides
by the keeper’s glare,
hapless, helpless
in the presence of
nature’s wonders,
bound by rules of order
we dare not break,
“Do not touch the class,”
the sign says,
and we don’t,
no matter how close
the bird gets
or how much its stare
twists inside of us.

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