Listen I do not want your pity I was a child and I did
not speak did not understand and now the story has
no power yes I was I still am that one yesterday and
the day before and all the ones that came after listen
I loved more than anything my mother listen this spring
to the wings scraping the air raw watch the seething
shore where dying songbirds are stones the journey
made I stand on this southern shore and spring throws
dying birds like vile rain like rain trying to find its sad