I don't want to die but sometimes
Catch myself wondering
How much do I want to live
I wish I could duck out sometimes
I don't like my choices
How I might keep living
How I might die
I wonder to what extent
I can choose what happens
Next Death is not final
Not as final as life
Alive we have to finish
A flicker crashed into our sliding door
Painful to hear her impact
Soft and hard at once
I found her on the deck
Upside down bleeding
From her beak Gasping
I never heard a bird gasp before
Her long tongue normally spooled
At the back of her skull
Was dangling
When I picked her up
I swear she was dying
Sometimes I am flying blind
Heading for openings that solidify
I veer at the last second
Not from any instinct
Just sudden vision of what
Is right in front of me
Maybe I catch the glint
Of my reflection
Flying toward me
Colliding with myself
Is not my death
In my death I will be flying
At the sliding door and
The door will slide open and
I will soar into a space that
Has no use for wings
