The DeliverBot drops the box at my feet and wheezes out a metallic "Happy Birthday" before flying away. At first, I think it's a mistake, because it isn't my birthday. At least, I don't think it is ... [+]
John Davies' poem, "Preserving the Last Starling," is in Short Circuit #05, Short Édition's quarterly review. An exiled Scouser in Ireland, John’s work appears in Maine Review, Rosebud, Pedestal, Southword & ‘Influenced’ (Muskeg Press). Twitter: @johndavies1978.
The bird containedwithin a bone-melded cagetries to breathe:a bubble of air rises,a pump slowly concertinas;water drips steadilyas anaesthesia into a bottomless dish.The dangling oval glassbanishes all the birdimagined itself before.Fluttering it climbs,climbs to the high perch;nestles there in the boxmade for dreaming,and the entire cage thrums when it sings.