To You Who’s Kept Me Company after Self-Portrait With Birdcage, by Joyce Tenneson (USA) 1976 (View at 2.15 in video above.) Bare shrubs whisper in their shifting. Sometimes, asleep, I wave my arms like wings. Not because I fly in dreams, but because when it’s dark, I am a bird. Do swallows also glide in prayer? The trees, the stones, the snow: we are a ballet without audience, choreographed to songs about staying where you settle. And together, we are warm. Or so I thought. I have nightmares: bound with wrought iron—tight, tighter, I pace paths of shadowed circles—small, smaller. Until dawn’s cold light carries the swallows’ pleas through gray, frosted glass. The sinner when he hears a hymn. So here, fly. Fly and forgive me. Meagan Chandler Meagan Chandler holds a bachelor’s degree in creative writing from Baldwin Wallace University. She currently attends the Poetry MFA program at Bowling Green University. Her works have been published or are forthcoming in Everyday Fiction, Anti-Heroin Chic, and Inscape. She also placed as a finalist and runner-up in the 2023 competitions for the Hollins’ University Literary Festival.
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September 2024
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