Sometimes I can't sleep. That's because of the bear under the bed.One night, the bear was breathing hard.When he breathed in, the bed lifted up off the floor.When he breathed out, the bed slammed back ... [+]
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.