Chelsea Lee Wood
As if they knew our fear the crows made strange
calls, their crackling laughter. And eagles
flying overhead flaunting a catch we can’t make.
Today, a bird that shall not be named
calls, their laughter cracks us open. And eagles
joining up three, now four, soon none.
Today, a bird that shall not be named
our fear is a vacant parking lot, we’re cheering
joining up three, then four, now none.
A flicker, wings burst, we watch numbers rising,
our fear is a distance six feet apart, cheers
scattered, wishing we could all take wing.
A flicker, wings burst, numbers keep rising
and falling, scent of freshness, screaming light
scattered, wishing we could all take wing.
A blue macaw does a lap around my block
and falling scent of freshness, light keeps cheering,
blinding overhead flaunting a catch we can’t make.
A blue macaw takes a stroll around my block.
As if they knew our fear the crows made strange.
Chelsea Lee Wood writes and studies poetry, parallel to her life as a hairdresser, on the unceded territories of the Musqueam, Squamish and Tsleil-Waututh Nations. She frequently writes standing up. Themes of desire, memory, and fears of annihilation persist.
