POETRY

For Lorre

photo by the author

Birds live and birds die
and I don’t know the difference
Call me, or hang up
both speak volumes
I’m good
I’m incredibly evil
I’ll do what I can
I’ll do nothing

The sun comes up tomorrow
it never comes up again
Spelling doesn’t count
just make up your own words
Lorre is a bird
a parakeet with a deformed beak
I might have to put him down tomorrow
Will he haunt me?
Flying around the murderer’s dreams?
Or will I bury him out back and then
come in and have toast?

I don’t know anything anymore
I’ve never met anyone
I’m alone
I’m surrounded
Poor Lorre
You’ve never existed
I’ll remember you forever
The days are neither good nor bad but they roll by
They stay perfectly still
Lorre stops breathing or flies away
I understand neither
Judge neither

Write for The Lark