Bird

It was loud,
fast jazz
on tuesday night
we wanted to read
poetry
to interrupt
our official-ness

After the computer screened
words
he told me about a
dying bird he took away
from the concrete sidewalk
and placed in green brush
a quiet place
and peaceful death

I needed that dying bird story
like water

For a night
and then a few weeks in the aftershocks
you took all the dying bird stories
away
you made the world black
what if everyone was capable
of what you did
and so trust became
a shudder
a mistake
what if my trust was
was a

I cried against the fast moving hits of the upright bass
and my friend held my hand
friends,
they are the ones
who keep this world
while your gait
causes destruction
and your deaf ears
ignore the tender songs
of dying birds