is an online magazine of the literary arts.

5 July 2010 | Vol. 10, No. 2

The Albatross Is a Paper Bird

In the book there is a bloody picture of the bird.

Two women stretch the wingspan.

They are gloved and smiling.

Here off the alley we fend for nothing.

We move barefooted silently on stairs that do not creak.

We are filled all of us.

We are all of us looking at the picture of the bird.

While all the while the door threatens to split down the middle.

A girl in Lawrence is looking at the picture of the bird.

In outskirts we gather hours of soil, honey, leaf.

The women with the bird have long since been buried.

The albatross is just a paper bird here.

Ready are we to cut and wash it down in glass.

We are all of us holding the glass in our mouths.

The paper beak is a pinwheel in my throat.

I play his ribs like pitches through the sheet.

Feathers collect as shoe soles.

This way we move over the dry ground soft as honey moves.

No beating wings or hands to glove for holding down the bird.

About the author:

Shaylah Kloska's poetry has appeared in Prick of the Spindle and Pedestal Magazine. She lives in Chicago and spends most of her time performing in the band Chaperone. She is co-editor of the art/lit zine Little Brother.



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