I
The bird was confused. She flew into the window and broke her neck.
We buried her in the garden by the tomb of Nano Nagle, near some Christmas saplings.
Little light, tiny thing.
Darling.
He calls me darling. He keeps from raising his voice or whetting his words.
I am crazy.
I bury the bird with a handful of nuts.
Maybe she’ll take my confusion away.
Maybe she’ll peck out my insanity
celestially.
I am scared of me sometimes.
I am scared of everybody who might take advantage of me,
although I beg them to.
II
I precipitate and surrender a torrent of
sleet statements
sent to ice over the pavement and
skid us off this path.
Outside as starlings constellate
I sit under stained glass
and wait
for the light to change
and all the saints to say their names
tell me if I ought to be ashamed
or
is it just that people are this way
and there is no one I can trust again?
And was it all my fault for trusting in the first place?
I light a candle under Mary’s gaze
and pray
III
Later when I talk to you
I am cowed and humbled
You soothe say to me
say everything will be ok.
I sigh back at you and
mumble
There’s a significance in our murmurations
You speak to me of the starling you buried
who broke her wing
up in the roof
and as you tried to tend her
she fought with you
and died exhausted.
IV
For now we are alive like this
to ebb and flow.
To shimmer, shatter and trick switch
with zephyrs over heathers
while the mountain side is gorse-lit.
I know I can be coarse lipped and
salty
My reputation is such that
the cowslips pucker up and cattails caterwaul to me
I am lilac gloved and foxy
I line my shepherds purse with parsley
while reciting the roman chamomile, holy basil, rosemary.
Still I have been cut deep
and many lives uproot me
I shudder at the thought to be a sheep
while a wolf still howls within me.
Yet for now we are as starlings.
For now we are in constellation.
and so I let you call me darling,
let you hold me to our murmurations
and calm my consternation.
Sionnachaí 