
ARS POETICA: BIRD CAGE AFTER CHASE TWICHELL AND IRINA RATUSHINSKAYA BY JANET E. AALFS
Like building a bird cage
out of birds
I tie words together in lines
and expect them to sing.
Like being a child.
Like being a cloud.
Something I can’t imagine
any other way.
Like a hand grenade, a hand-
made poem, woman
to woman, tongue to lips.
Like nothing
I already know, words
on a matchstick
slipped through a crack
in the prison wall ignite
an explosion of ink-
black wings, my silence, the sky.