“…imagine the prizes we desire
in the present” ~ D. Bonta
It begins to drizzle when we’re walking
to the car carrying bags of takeout food,
when on the sidewalk a woman in a dark,
full-length beaded dress lighting
what appears to be a blunt sings out Perfect
family! laughing as she and her companion
weave across the street. Even as we pull
away her voice echoes in my ear; I think
of a mythical bird who waited in the high
branches of a tree— it drops a well-timed
load of shit on the head of some unsuspecting
prince passing through the woodland. In
the story, such targets turn to stone and stay
that way; the forest begins to resemble a park
populated with various ruined statues
slippered in moss. It’ll take someone else’s
courage to gather birdsong without becoming
petrified: to find the spell for restoration.
In response to Via Negativa: Practice makes perfect.