there was movement,
down by my foot
and the movement
was a bird,
lost and blinking,
a furry
brown golfball,
barely feathered.
it moved
and made weak noises,
wings twitching
like broken spiderlegs.
I stopped
and looked at it,
but they say you shouldn’t touch them,
so, like with a painting,
I didn’t;
just paused
and stood with my hands in my pockets.
above
the trees
were thick and heavy green,
punctured
with the burned wartmarks
of old crows nests
and waiting cats.
I don’t know
what happens
to baby birds
that fall.
no,
I do—
but I don’t like knowing.
DS Maolalai is a poet from Ireland who has been writing and publishing poetry for almost ten years. His first collection, “Love is Breaking Plates in the Garden,” was published in 2016 by the Encircle Press, with a second, “Sad Havoc Among the Birds” forthcoming from Turas Press in March 2019. He has been nominated for Best of the Web and twice for the Pushcart Prize.
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