Numbers of these are bought in by the Jain brothers
and brought, to grow back wing-tips and illusions,
to one of the hospitals succoring such small quarry.
When strong and feathered again, the lucky victims
get reborn on Sunday mornings to the world's violence,
released from the roofs of these temples to illusion.
It is hard for a westerner to speak about men and women
like these, who call the birds of the air
brothers.
We recall the embarrassed fanfare for Francis and his flock.
We're poor forked sky-clad things ourselves
and God knows prey to illusion-e.g . , I claim these brothers
and sisters in India, stemming a little violence, among birds.
Katerina Anghelake Rooke
PENELOPE SAYS
I wasn't weaving, I wasn't knitting
I started to write, and I kept effacing
under the weight of the words
because the perfect expression is blocked
when it is constrained by inner pain.
And although absence is the theme of my life
-absence from life-
tears fall on the paper
and the physical pain of the body
which is deprived.
I erase, I tear up, I drown
the quickened cries
"where are you, come I'm waiting for you
this spring is not like other springs"
and I start anew in the morning
with new birds and white sheets
