poem of the day 09.01.09

blackbird

there’s nothing in
my heart
right now.
i’m a blackbird.
there is no movement.
no drive.
i’m a blackbird
and every day is the same.
every meal.
every drink.
boring, redundant.
because i’m a blackbird
with greasy feathers
and clipped wings
and a twisted beak
that won’t allow me
to talk.
there is nothing to do
about it
because there is nothing
and that is fine.
i’m a blackbird.
just as the trees die
as people die.
i’m a blackbird
hopping around
the cracked concrete
a blackbird
searching for a crumb.
that is i have no choice
i’ll stay the same until the end
just a blackbird.
forever a blackbird
meandering between
the tombstones
pecking at the ungodly mess
as the flowers wilt
as cities fall into the ocean
as the seasons change
and each night inevitably
brings its audacious, gray dawn.