Poetry Winter 2021

This One Ends with a Paperweight

by Elizabeth Grant

A goldfinch caught 
in the light 
sits on the faucet 
in my kitchen, 
there are splinters 
in the yard where 
his birdhouse used to be. 
A door behind me opens. 
My son in the hallway 
holds a paperweight. 
His face turns fiendish, 
his arm cocks —
The bird opens 
like a music box, 
revealing the shades 
of his insides.

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