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.