The Panic of Birds by Olena Kalytiak Davis
the moon is sick
of pulling at the river, and the river
fed up with swallowing the rain,
so, in my lukewarm coffee, in the bathroom
mirror, there's a restlessness
as black as a raven
landing heavily on the quiet lines of this house.
again, the sun takes cover
and the morning is dead
tired of itself, already, it's
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