Writer. Reader. Editor.

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Untitled Prose Poem 1

The bird bent her head to the small, flat dish and nibbled on a saltine. Beside it sat two pieces of celery which she chomped into small bites with her sharp beak and which fell from her mouth and cluttered the ground. Hunger clung to her ribs like a safety blanket, her narrow bones protruding at odd angles.
            Her mother landed beside her, offering her the full course she held in her talons.
            “Eat,” she said, but her daughter turned to the celery and continued her slow chomping. “Please,” her mother begged.

But instead the girl straightened from her meal and flew away.

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