Birds poem by Wayne Jackson

Wayne Jackson was an ironworker. As a young man he fell 26 feet and broke many bones.

After hurting in all the broken places
And after writing three poems of madness
And after the sun has gone down
Low enough to come in the southern window
And warm me
And after the birds have settled in the yard,
Have fed and flown
But have brought no peace,
I take the pen hand
And rub the scarred parts of the other hand
Absentmindedly
I too
Wish to feed and fly
***

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