The Birds
She got used to the birds
flying around the house
except for the days
when their cawing filtered
through the floorboards
and even the dog was afraid.
When friends or relations came
the birds disappeared through the windows
and waited on the rooftop
or under the eaves.
One day the cawing stopped.
The birds settled in the silence
like a big black cloud.
In her bedroom she built a cage
and the birds flew in
one by one.
Weeks later she returned from school
found her mother and father
in the kitchen – kissing.
From her room she could hear
the flutter of a million tiny wings.
The door opened and the birds
glided through the house
weightless and blue.
Maggie Sawkins lives in Portsmouth and delivers creative writing projects in community settings. Her live literature production "Zones of Avoidance" won the 2013 Ted Hughes Award for New Work in Poetry. Her most recent poetry collection, Many Skies Have Fallen, is published by Wild Mouse Press. You can find her here: www.hookedonwords.me.