free — he rattles through my dreams
And, unencumbered by his iron cage,
Confronts me in my bed. My frantic screams
Unlock the burden of a songbird's rage,
Deprived of leafy nights beneath the stars,
And berries by the roadside — no escape
From his small universe of perch and bars,
And my great-grandma, dressed in inky crepe.
Oh bonny bird, why do you haunt my sleep?
You glare down at your prey within the brook
In churchman's guise; I shudder when you cheep,
Your eyes are lasers, and I cannot look
Upon the coals of Hell they've painted red —
The living eat the sinning of the dead.
© 2008 by Ellin
Anderson. All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be copied or used in any way
without written permission from the author.