| InterBoard Poetry Competition | |
BIRDSONG
Katey Nicosia
(Enter the Muse)
A winter wren flits from bush to bush and tweets.
Everything moves in its tune as if this part of the world
is a montage scored in chatters and flits.
My hands hook the luggage handles. Mother hides
her leaks, prevents a scene. I have my keys
and the wad of money dad gave me.
Mother makes sure I packed my shoes. Dad pats me
on the back and says, “Nice knowing you.” He laughs,
but it’s true. The me they served peaches to
is not the me they’ll see in a month or two. I’ll be ripping
columns from the evening news in a neon city.
I’ll have a green canteen and sarongs of grape leaves.
I’ll be shoveled under sandaled feet, planted like poppy seeds.
Leaving the driveway, I wave like I’m on deck
with a hanky in my hand, fussing in the salty sky,
the ship’s hoots stressing the white-sailed scene.
This is how it should be. A distance swelling
by a driver with a license and that new car scent.
I can’t see around the backseat packed with boxes,
so I don’t know if they’ve gone inside yet, but my hands
are on the wheel, and I can still hear the winter wren,
the tune of the latest me, that song I’ll sing at sea.
Judge John Poch’s comment: “I chose this poem as the best for February because of the continual surprising invention of language. (For instance, ‘The me they served peaches…’) And it’s nice that the song sung at sea, finally, is only a tweet, not some overblown romantic pining for home.”
About the InterBoard Poetry Competition
Archive of IBPC Winners
2nd Place Winner, February 2004
