the absolution of birds

There are things we, as a people, never talk about-
But this is an absolution and
I want you to know me.

The birds carry my secrets,
I whisper to them and they flutter off somewhere in the distant skyline-
Turning from a black spec to blue, disappearing-
Gliding on spirit-
My Sentiments,
Resounding in the wind.

My first bird came to me when I was four years old-
Iocking myself in the bathroom.
I remember it still-
Screaming, slamming, leaving.
Little old Linda,
In a corner of the bathroom-
Sweating on the tiled floor
There are no ways to drown out noise-
Even with the shower running
I can still hear it.

My brother cracks the sideview mirror of my mothers car with his skateboart -
My father found 76 extasy pills in his room and flushed them down the toilet,
Crying.
Bird two.

He slapped me across my face-
Finally I lunged my body towards his-
Told him he was good for nothing.
I got a three pages of apologies the next day from my father,
Somewhere amongst my greatest possessions-
I still have it.
Bird three.

Amongst my panic attacks, the pacing, and the fetal position there have been millions of sparrows.

He told me he loved me-
13 more birds.

Then there was My mother-
My most prized treasure, my secret keeper-
Who Became my most beautiful song-
She tells me she is dying -and
As a grown adult I grapple to her legs and wish to peel every inch of my skin off
Screaming G-D
I DON’T WANT ANY MORE FUCKING BIRDS.
I only want a voice.

I am no venus de milo-
But I have nothing to hold onto
Another bird.
(Even silence slips through my fingers)