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Annette Marie Hyder

My Voice is a Bird:


Making Him Jealous Talking About An Ex


Without even trying to

my voice becomes a bird

a bird singing of happiness.

It flashes its yellow feathers and sings.


His voice limps off the phone

wounded.


He doesn't know how sad I am

when I get off the phone with him

how quickly those feathers turn to blue

how the bird chokes on its own song.



So My Voice Is a Bird Again


Only this time

it dips and swings in

closer to the predator

or that which I perceive to be

so


the bird that is my voice

decoys, distracts, fakes broken-winged

to lead him away

from my child, my heart, my feelings

hidden in the grass

of our conversation.



And This Time the Bird That Is My Voice


Shits all over the shiny red sportscar hood

of your new accomplishment.


Guess you shouldn't have parked there.


[Index]

Thunder Sandwich #26 - Summer/Fall 2005