BIRD Poem by Marije Langelaar

In the bird itself
everything seemed equally worthless

it was strangely equivalent to
crawling into a glove

no trace of the heroic

of course sometimes lifted up
and the beak opens and the beak closes
(light streaming in)

repeatedly singing the national anthem
(masterly vibration)

(branches full of ruttish boys)

after a week floatingsick deaf from blaring
and addled from the egg that had started to grow
next to my head pulled on the handle

chucked onto the roof