Bird Men

By Ruth Asch

he sits under the nightingale tree

waiting to catch

those notes which are heavy

enough to fall

into a resin bowl

pierces them

with steel needle

to make them real

strings them on

decimated vines

to garland

anyone who asks him

a lark is

unpicking his spirit

grasping it by

thread ends at his ear

drawing it like floss

up his throat and out the window

to drop it drifting on a cloud

we find him there

each day

eyes a little darker

frayed smile

hanging from one cheek

shortlink: dogb.us/birdmen

Ruth Asch is a Piltdown Review Featured Poet for September 2018. She is the author of the collection Reflections (Saint Austin Press, 2009). Her many poems have appeared in Peacock Journal, Ghazal Page, Bamboo Hut, Mediterranean Poetry, Poetry Atlas, Classical Poets Society, Poetry Repairs, and elsewhere. Her short prose has been seen in Flash Fiction, Peacock Journal and Not One of Us. A wife, mother, and teacher, she grew up in London, England, lived some years in France, and is currently resident in Spain.

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